


no place to call home

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, M/M, Peter Pan AU, Peter Pan!Louis, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:06:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“What are you smiling about, Harrison,” the boy spits, body language suddenly getting defensive. “I’ll have you know that I’m-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Harry,” Harry interrupts, giggling. “My name is Harry. And if you’re not called Peter, then what are you called?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy tilts his chin up slightly, surveying Harry like he’s checking if he’s worthy of knowing something as important as his name. “Well, Herschel, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Louis.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, Louis isn't Peter Pan and Harry isn't Wendy and Neverland is nothing like Harry thought it would be, but it's perfect anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no place to call home

**Author's Note:**

> this is the Peter Pan au that nobody asked for but everyone probably needs.
> 
> thank you Gabby for inspiring this and for beta'ing, and thanks to Lena for helping out with beta'ing as well. 
> 
> title is from Lost Boy by Ruth B.

“Once upon a time,” Anne began, “right here in London, lived a young girl called Wendy. Wendy had a lovely family: two parents that loved her very much, and two younger brothers that thought the world of her.”

“Almost like me and Gem?” Harry interrupted, wide green eyes blinking up at his mother in the dim glow of his nightlight.

“Almost like you and Gem,” Anne appeased him, smiling as she brushed his springy, curly hair, soft from the bath, off of his forehead.

“Wendy believed in fairy tales, particularly one about a boy called Peter. Peter Pan.”

“Peter Pan,” Harry whispered, intrigue coloring his tone. He’s heard the story before, of course, a million times in his five years. It never seemed to get old, much like Peter himself.

“Peter Pan,” Anne repeated. “Legend has it that Peter ran away the very day he was born, because he heard his parents talking about all of the things he would have to do when he was old. He escaped to a faraway place called Neverland,” Anne pointed out the open window, “second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning.”

Amazed, Harry pushed himself up on his elbows and let his eyes follow the direction his mother was pointing, up at the night sky. If he squinted hard enough, he swore he could almost see Neverland.

“One night, Peter snuck into Wendy’s house while everyone was asleep. On his way out, he left his shadow behind, and Wendy’s mother rolled it up and put it in a drawer in hopes that Peter would soon return to collect it. And Peter did, just a few nights later.”

Harry’s eyes were already drooping, though they were still focused on the night sky. The stars were winking at him, and he felt one with them. It was like a secret that only he and they were in on, a secret bigger than anyone could imagine. _The magic of childhood_ , his mother would tell him if he were to say it out loud.

“Whilst snooping around, looking for his shadow, Peter accidentally woke Wendy He offered to teach her and her brothers how to fly, and invited them with him back to Neverland.”

“Neverland,” Harry hummed, eyes finally falling shut. His mother continued the story, but he was fast asleep before Wendy and the others were even halfway to Neverland.

-

Ten years later, and Harry is still enthralled by the idea of Peter Pan. It might be a little strange, he knows his parents think it’s downright silly, but Harry still believes. It worked for Wendy, why not him?

He’s much too old now for bedtime stories, and so he makes up his own. Each night he sits on the sill by his open window and gazes up at the stars, specifically the second star to the right-

“And straight on ‘til morning,” he whispers wistfully. He rests his chin on his hands, face just barely feeling the gentle breeze of a cool summer night. The sky is clear tonight, the stars shockingly bright, and Harry wonders when the time will come that he will get to join them all the way up there.

He starts to imagine, not for the first time, that Peter Pan will pay him a visit. If he squints hard enough, he can almost see a petite, light haired boy flying toward him right this very moment.

He spends a while fantasizing about it, conjuring up the kind of conversations he might have with Peter when he finds himself in Harry’s bedroom. His imagination gets a bit more fantastic every night, the same way the stars have been seeming to grow duller. They used to be so bright when he was small, back when he thought that he could talk to them, that he was one of them. He still wants to believe, but it gets harder and harder the more he has to strain to see them.

Eventually the busy London road beneath his window becomes quieter than the inside of his head, and this is the point he usually calls it a night. He wishes the stars well and gets up, leaving the window open for Peter like he always does.

The only sound in the room for a moment is the scuffle of Harry’s pajama pants against his bedsheets, and then silence falls once again. He doesn’t use a nightlight anymore; the stars are usually enough, but tonight it seems especially dark.

It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep. It never does, because by now it’s closer to breakfast than to bedtime and Harry has been fighting sleep for close to an hour by the window. 

It feels like he’s only been asleep a moment, maybe less, when something flutters close to his face. He swipes weakly at his own nose and presses his face into his pillow, the sleepy sound that releases itself from his throat getting muffled in the material. There’s a quiet, insistent tinkling noise that won’t quit, no matter how hard Harry presses his face into the pillow, so finally he cracks an eye open.

The light is instantly too much, and he’s forced to squint against it to see what is buzzing around him. He’s shocked to find that the light isn’t from the sun, but from the _thing_ itself, whatever it is. The little ball of light moves closer and Harry shifts his head so he can use both eyes, peering up at the little being.

At first glance, it looks almost like a strange bug. But when Harry’s eyes adjust, he sees that _it_ is actually a _she_ , and she is a tiny, winged girl with pale blue hair and strikingly similar colored eyes.

Harry’s only available reaction is a horrified shriek, which the tiny, glowing fairy girl returns almost immediately, only much quieter and very much more high pitched. 

She zips away and Harry sits upright in bed, pushing a wayward curl out of his eyes and tracking the flash of light. He blinks and loses it, but upon further inspection, he realizes that the inside of his closet is glowing gently through the wooden slats of the folding louvered doors.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, ready to get up and sneak up on the tiny glowing girl, when he hears a thump from the window. He freezes in fright at the shadowy figure he sees perched there, watching as the person, full-grown, this one, slips into his room.

“Lottie?” The boys calls out softly, pulling Harry’s curtain out so he can check behind it. “Lottie?”

Harry holds his breath, watching with wide eyes as the boy steps further into the room. “Lottie, where are you? I told Liam we’d be back before-”

Harry can pinpoint the exact moment the boy notices his presence, his entire body freezing up and going rigid. He’s hunched slightly, raised up just barely on his toes, on the hunt for someone called Lottie.

The way the boy is standing allows the moon and stars to catch his face just right, and Harry can almost make out his features. He looks dainty, petite, his face sharp and his nose round and his lips parted just slightly in shock.

Harry inhales slowly but it appears that the other boy is completely frozen, like he’s become a statue. He doesn’t look terribly older than Harry, and Harry finds his initial intimidation wearing off.

“Hello,” he says softly, cocking his head just a bit at the boy. The pixie-like boy still doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t flinch even when Harry lets his feet slide onto the floor and slowly stands up. 

When the boy still remains motionless, Harry takes the smallest step forward. The tinkling noise from inside the closet intensifies for just a moment, and then dulls again.

“I’m Harry,” Harry whispers, like if he speaks too loud the boy might just evaporate into the night. “Are you- are you Peter Pan?”

It takes another few seconds, but then finally the other boy’s posture relaxes and he looks- well, he looks almost annoyed.

“No, I’m not bloody Peter Pan,” the boy bites out. Harry flinches and the boy stalks toward him, though his feet make next to no sound on the hardwood floor. “Listen here, Henry, was that your name? I don’t care. Peter Pan isn’t real. He doesn’t exist. I don’t know where they got that from, or why they chose to call him bloody _Peter Pan_ , of all things, but he isn’t real. It’s me, I’m the kid from the nursery rhymes, but they’ve gone and messed up my whole story, whoever decided to write it down.” He crosses his arms over his chest and snarls at the floor, his entire body emanating annoyance. 

Harry has the inexplicable urge to laugh, even though the little pixie boy just about bit his head off. He looks ethereal, almost, like if Harry reached out and touched him he would be made out of paper or glass instead of skin.

“What are you smiling about, Harrison,” the boy spits, body language suddenly getting defensive. “I’ll have you know that I’m-”

“Harry,” Harry interrupts, giggling. “My name is Harry. And if you’re not called Peter, then what are you called?”

The boy tilts his chin up slightly, surveying Harry like he’s checking if he’s worthy of knowing something as important as his name. “Well, Herschel, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Louis.”

Harry smiles, because at this point Louis is doing it intentionally. He doesn’t correct him, holding out his hand instead for Louis to shake.

Louis looks down at Harry’s hand and then back up at his face, confusion etched into the furrow of his brow. “What is that,” he deadpans, gesturing at Harry’s hand.

“My hand?” Harry says, just as confused. “You’re- you’re supposed to, like, shake it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, that’s what you do when you meet someone new.”

“Who does?”

“Everyone, I don’t know. Grown ups?”

Louis’s eyes narrow and he looks closely at Harry’s face, bright blue eyes flicking quickly between Harry’s own. “Are you a grown up, Harry?”

Harry finds himself grinning, dropping his hand and the subject altogether. “You called me Harry.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, no, I’m not a grown up,” Harry assures, smiling when Louis nods affirmatively.

“Good. We can be friends, then,” he decides, reaching up to tug on one of Harry’s curls. Harry feels it bounce back into place when Louis releases it, and the tiny smile that pulls on Louis’s lips makes Harry feel like he’s glowing nearly as bright as that fairy girl. Speaking of which…

“Did you, um, did you lose a really tiny, blue haired girl?” Harry asks quietly, watching Louis’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Yes! Have you seen her?” Louis asks hopefully. Harry points toward the closet door and Louis winks at him in thanks, slowly creeping over toward the closet. He puts a hand on the door and quickly pushes it open, revealing the source of the light leaking into the room.

The little fairy shrieks again and darts out the window, the unmistakable tinkling sound of laughter following her. Louis curses under his breath and takes off at a run, leaping right out after her like he’s diving into a swimming pool.

Harry runs to the window to watch, folding his knees under himself atop the sill and watching as Louis and Lottie dart around the night sky. Eventually the pinprick of light that Lottie has become darts up and away and disappears into the sky, and Louis vanishes right after her.

“No,” Harry whines, leaning a bit farther out the window as if that will bring them back into his line of sight. “No, come back,” he pleads. He thought they were friends, Louis said they could be friends, and know he’s gone. “Louis!” Harry calls, in a last ditch attempt, but to no avail.

“Go to sleep!” Yells a grumpy old neighbor from down the street. Harry sighs and ducks back into his room, plopping down on the bed. No wonder Louis hates grown ups so much; they’re terribly boring.

Just as he’s about to tuck himself back under the covers, a tiny cough sounds from window and nearly startles Harry right onto the floor.

“Caught her,” Louis grins, gracefully dropping to his feet from the windowsill. There’s a little ball of light perched on his shoulder, and it wobbles and tinkles angrily when Louis’s feet hit the ground. “You aren’t going back to sleep, are you? We’ve just met, I have so much to show you.”

“Show me?” Harry asks, pulling the covers up over his lap and sitting up against the wall behind his pillow. “Like what?”

“Like,” Louis hums, trailing off in thought. He jumps up and gently floats back down, landing with his legs folded in front of him on the end of Harry’s bed. “Like, I can teach you how to fly, if you want? And maybe if you can hold your own, I can bring you back to Neverland?”

Harry perks up, straightening his spine and grinning at Louis. “Neverland is real, then?”

“Course it is,” Louis scoffs. “It’s my home.”

“So then the fairy tale isn’t all wrong,” Harry says, pulling his legs toward himself and folding them, mirroring the way Louis is sitting.

“Not _all_ wrong, I suppose,” Louis muses, eyes drifting up toward the ceiling. “I didn’t run away the day I was born, though, that’s just silly.”

“Why is it silly?” Harry asks, suddenly defensive of his favorite childhood story, even if it’s Louis’s actual life.

“How would a day old baby run away? I couldn’t even fly then, think about it,” Louis chuckles, watching Harry’s expression melt.

“Oh. I’ve never actually thought about that,” Harry admits, furrowing his brow. “I guess that does seem a bit silly, then. So the fairies gave you the ability to fly, then?”

“Yes,” Louis grins, smiling at the little fairy on his shoulder. She tinkles brightly and then zips away, off to examine the things on Harry’s shelf. “And Lottie is my fairy. She looks out for me, I look out for her. We’re a team,” he says fondly, watching as Lottie lands on top of Harry’s dresser, making eyes at one of the action figures he has there. 

“You can have that, if you want,” Harry tells her. He startles her, he can tell, but she turns around and tinkles at him happily. “I’ve never really been into action figures, but my auntie always gives me them for Christmas. You can have him, if you like him.”

Lottie looks at Louis and Louis nods as if to say _go on_ , and Lottie hefts the action figure in her tiny arms and brings it back to the bed. Harry helps her bend the doll into a sitting position and then she plops down beside it, tinkling at it quietly.

Harry watches her for a moment and then looks up at Louis, realizing with a start that Louis has been watching him, as well. He also notices that Louis is hovering about a centimeter off the bed, and it appears he doesn’t even notice.

“So, um,” Harry starts, looking down and playing with a frayed piece of his quilt, “you mentioned teaching me to fly?”

“Oh!” Louis grins, floating up a few more inches. “Yes, of course. Up you get, then. Lott, help him out?”

Harry scrambles out of bed and stands up, watching as Lottie reluctantly stops tinkling at her new friend and zips over to where he stands.

She glows a little brighter and starts to buzz around him, tinkling cheerfully. She starts at his head and circles around him until she’s nearly on the floor, sprinkling what Harry supposes is pixie dust all over him, and then zips back up to his face to grin at him. “Push off!” She tells him, and Harry realizes that she isn’t constantly tinkling, but chattering, her voice like a tiny bell.

Harry looks down at his feet and does as he’s told, pushing off the floor like he would the side of a swimming pool. He gasps as he floats right off the ground, his feet kicking instinctually.

Louis laughs, the sound bright and airy, already hovering near the low ceiling. “C’mon, then, aim yourself,” he encourages, demonstrating by somersaulting in the air and then diving straight out the window.

Harry frowns after him and flaps his arms somewhat uselessly, trying to angle his body toward the window. He wills himself to move and then suddenly he’s doing it, flying with almost as much speed and remarkably less grace than Louis.

“Louis!” He shouts, voice bright with pure exhilaration. “Louis! I’m doing it!”

Louis’s pretty laugh sounds from somewhere above Harry’s roof, and when Harry turns around, he sees Louis hovering next to his chimney. He kicks his legs a little reaches forward with his arms, managing to make himself float all the way up to where Louis is.

“Look at me!” Harry laughs, trying to do a flip like Louis had done. He loses his balance and wobbles in the air, and Louis reaches out to steady him with a hand on his elbow. “I’m flying!”

“Thrilling, isn’t it?” Louis grins, soaring up into the sky and then darting back down to take Harry’s hand. He pulls him up, up, up into the sky, and then lets go of his hand to fly a circle around him.

They practice until Harry has the hang of it, only slightly wobbly and mostly balanced. Louis teaches him some tricks, shows him how to nail the somersault, and finally they make their way back down to earth, back to Harry’s bedroom.

They take a few minutes to catch their breath, sitting side by side on Harry’s windowsill. Lottie is still flitting around the room, seemingly full of energy, and Louis’s eyes sparkle when she zips over to tinkle in his ear.

He nods, and Harry watches as Lottie plops down on Louis’s shoulder and Louis turns to face him. “So what do you say?” Louis smiles. “Wanna come to Neverland?”

Harry gets so excited then that he floats right up off his seat, squeaking in surprise. Louis laughs and reaches up to pull him back down, holding onto his hand even after Harry is secure.

“Yes! I’d love to! But,” he spares a glance toward his closed bedroom door, on the other side of which the hallway leads to where his parents are both sound asleep, and his sister in the next room. “Won’t they miss me?”

Louis’s expression is flat when Harry looks at him. He fears he’s said the wrong thing, but Louis just squeezes his hand. “Yes, they probably will. But you’ll be with me, and the others, and we’ll take good care of you. Think of how much fun we’ll have! And the best part is,” Louis leans closer, “you never _ever_ have to grow up.”

Harry stares at his eyes for a moment, weighing his options. This could be a once in a lifetime chance, really, and it’s what he’s always dreamed of. Plus, think of how foolish everyone who ever looked down on him will feel when they learn that he actually flew off with Peter Pan! On the other hand, though, his family will definitely miss him, and he doesn’t like the idea of them being sad.

Louis’s hand is warm and solid in his own and Harry’s body is still tingling from the pixie dust, and when he nods, the excitement in Louis’s eyes eases any qualms he might still have. The clock reads 12:37am.

-

It seems like it takes all night to get to Neverland.

Louis holds Harry’s hand when he starts to get tired, pulls him along and doesn’t let him drop out of the sky. It turns out that flying is a lot colder than he expected, as well, so Louis’s warmth is a welcome feeling at his side.

The sun is just up over the horizon when finally they begin to descend on Neverland. It was like Harry blinked and suddenly it was there, and it doesn’t make any sense, but Louis is still pulling him along, so Harry decides to trust him.

They land on a beach, Louis gracefully and Harry quite the opposite. Louis just laughs that bright sounding laugh and doesn’t let go of his hand, tugging him along through the brush that lines the edge of the beach.

“C’mon, you look tired. We can go have a nap in my treehouse, and then I’ll bring you to meet the lads,” Louis decides, quickly growing frustrated with stepping through the vegetation and leaping up to float above it.

Harry grunts quietly as he’s dragged into the air as well, floating along beside Louis until they reach a clearing not too deep into the woods.

His pixie dust lasts him just long enough to get there, and he finally drops right out of the air. He shrieks as he goes down, tumbling gently into the dirt, bringing a laughing Louis down with him. Lottie doesn’t wait for them to sort themselves out, heading straight for the knot in one of the trees in the clearing, which must be where she sleeps.

“Well, there were worse ways that could have gone,” Louis chirps, optimistic for someone who is currently half pinned in the dirt by the weight of another boy. “Up, up, you loaf. Only a bit further, and then you can sleep.”

Harry grunts again but does as he’s told, pushing himself onto his feet. He spares a look around himself at the clearing, a small smile spreading over his face when he sees a collection of little huts, and then a slightly larger hut built in and around a big tree.

“Is this where the Lost Boys live?” Harry asks hopefully, while Louis brushes himself off.

“Yes, a hut for each of them. We took that title from the fairy tale, by the way,” Louis grins. “Keep it down, though, if they hear you they’ll be all over you. If you want to rest, I’d advise you not to bring attention to yourself.”

Harry mimes zipping his lips shut, smiling when Louis smiles. 

“My one is the one in the tree. C’mon,” Louis coaxes, still hovering above the ground as he leads Harry to the treehouse at the edge of the clearing.

“You speak good, for someone who doesn’t go to school,” Harry comments, ducking into Louis’s treehouse and having a look around.

“I speak _well_ ,” Louis corrects, winking at Harry. “Yeah, it’s not all fun and games around here, you know. It would be, if it were up to me, but Liam likes when I bring him books sometimes when I come back from wherever I’ve gone, and he reads them to us.”

“That’s kind of him,” Harry says through a yawn. Louis brings him back through a messy, unkempt room, until they reach one that appears to be one big sleeping area. There are blankets and pillows scattered all over the floor in varying states of disarray, and it looks like a very cozy little nest.

“It is kind of him,” Louis agrees. “Liam is very kind, as are the others. You’ll meet them soon, but first, we nap,” he decides, plopping down into the pile of blankets and cocooning himself in one of them.

Harry smiles and lays down as well, choosing a free blanket and tucking himself up in it. It doesn’t take him long to drift off to sleep, especially when Louis inches a little closer and whispers that he’s glad he came.

-

Harry wakes up to a ruckus. There’s a lot of shifting and someone is yelling not too far away, and Harry opens his eyes just in time to watch Louis dart out of the room.

“Lou- _ee_!” Someone is hollering, apparently just outside the treehouse. It takes a moment, but Harry hears Louis hush whoever it is hastily.

“Sh- _ush_ Niall,” Louis’s voice hisses. 

“Do we have a guest?”

“Yes, we do. And he’s sleeping.”

“What’s he sleeping for?”

 

“What do you sleep for?”

 

“For when I’m tired, I suppose.”

“Exactly. Now stop your hollering and gather the lads, I’m sure he’ll be up soon.”

Harry sits up just in time to see Louis peek his head through the doorway, checking to see if he’s up. Louis winces but Harry just smiles at him, pushing the blanket off his lap.

“Sorry, Niall’s a bit thick sometimes. Did he wake you?” Louis asks quietly, touching down gently on the floor and kicking some blankets back to the corner.

“No,” Harry lies, “I was waking up anyway.”

“Good,” Louis hums, extending a hand to help Harry up. “The lads are buzzing to meet you,” Louis tells him, leading him back through the tree house the way they came.

There’s a small circle of boys sitting outside when Louis and Harry emerge, sitting around an empty fire pit. One with dark eyes and darker hair notices them first, and nudges the one to his left. The other boy looks up and then quickly stands, prompting the rest of them to do the same. They stand in a short line, all of them gazing curiously at Harry.

“Lads, this is Harry,” Louis announces, sweeping his arm in a much grander gesture than Harry deserves. “Harry this is Zayn,” he points to the dark haired one, “Liam,” the one immediately to Zayn’s left, “And Niall,” the one that was shouting a while ago.

“Hello,” says Niall cheerily, bouncing right up to Harry. “Welcome to Neverland! Are you going to be joining our crew?”

Harry hears a quiet scoff and then Liam nudges Zayn, giving him a look. “I’m not sure,” he says, looking to Louis for guidance, but Louis is too busy giving Zayn a similar look to Liam’s.

“Well first we’re going to show him around a bit, let him know how everything works around here. I think Harry could be a good addition to our crew,” Louis throws an arm over Harry’s shoulders, “so let’s be good to him, yeah?”

The boys murmur their agreement and then Louis brings him to sit around the empty fire pit, the others taking their previous seats.

“So Liam,” Harry begins, smiling when the sweet faced boy perks up. “Louis told me you like to read?”

“I love to read,” Liam confirms, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Why, have you brought me a book?” he asks hopefully.

“Oh,” Harry says, his smile dropping. “Well, no, I haven’t. I didn’t know until I got here. Otherwise I would have brought you a few of my own,” he assures.

“That’s okay,” Liam smiles. “Which is your favorite?”

Harry flushes, smiling despite himself and looking down at his lap. “Well, actually, the story of Peter Pan is my absolute favorite.”

A lighthearted blend of laughter and groaning goes up from the other four, and Harry blushes a bit harder when Louis knocks his shoulder against his own.

“So what do you think, everything you dreamed it would be?” he teases, his face close enough to the side of Harry’s that Harry can feel his warm breath against his jaw.

“Well not yet!” Harry teases right back, turning to face him. “So far I’ve just about only seen the inside of my own eyelids,” he says, getting another laugh from the rest of the boys.

“What do you want to see, then?” Louis chirps, jumping up from the ground. “We’ve got a whole island to explore, I can show you it all!”

“I can show you the world,” Niall and Zayn start in unison, batting their eyelashes at each other dramatically.

“Wrong fairy tale,” Louis tells them, shutting them up with a single finger pointed in their direction. They burst into laughter, and Harry grins as he looks over at them. “We can start with the forest, since that’s where we spend most of our time,” Louis decides, taking Harry’s hand to lead him off.

“Can we come?” Niall calls after them, the three of them standing behind like lost puppies. Harry supposes they’re called the Lost Boys for a reason. 

“If you can keep up!” Louis shouts, clearly already full of excitement. He grips Harry’s hand tighter and jumps up off the ground, just high enough that Harry’s feet don’t touch the floor anymore when he’s dragged up with him.

Harry, not expecting to be so suddenly airborne, squirms a little, and screeches as Louis loses his hold on his hand and drops him right into the dirt. It’s the second time today he’s been face down in the sand in Neverland.

“Sorry, sorry!” Louis gushes, touching down beside him and squatting to make sure he’s not hurt. “Forgot you can’t fly.”

Like she’s been called, Lottie peeks her little head out the knot of Louis’s tree. She tinkles happily, like she’s laughing, and then flutters down to sprinkle some dust on Harry’s head. “I want to come too,” she tells him, pulling at Harry’s ear until he pushes himself up and out of the dirt.

Everyone else is already hovering slightly above the ground when Harry gets on his feet so he pushes off slightly from the ground, wobbling a bit as he gains his balance.

Louis reaches out for his hand again and Harry holds on without question, and then they’re off.

Louis weaves them through the trees with ease, holding onto Harry’s hand tightly so he won’t lose pace or get lost. He explains as they go what the different plants are; trees with funny names and flowers that almost appear to be sentient.

“Are you hungry?” Louis asks him, touching down next to a particularly colorful tree. “This tree has the best fruit on the island. Try it,” he says, reaching up to pluck one of the fruits off the tree, handing it over to Harry with a grin.

Harry inspects the fruit carefully, turning it over in his hands. It’s yellow and red, something between a berry and an apple. Harry shrugs his shoulder and takes a bite, eyes widening as the sweet, sugary flavor fills his mouth.

“Yum,” he hums, taking another bite before he’s even finished the first. “What is this?”

Louis just laughs instead of answering and takes his hand again, pulling him along on foot this time. Harry drops the fruit forlornly, supposing he can come back for another if there’s time later.

“Where do you think we should go next, lads?” Louis asks, tossing a glance over his shoulder at the other boys. Lottie, who is resting on Liam’s shoulder, tinkles excitedly.

“Lottie thinks we should go to Mermaid Lagoon,” Liam conveys, smiling over at Louis.

Louis seems pleased with the suggestion, turning a sharp corner at the next tree and pulling Harry in the new direction.

Harry skips a little to be closer to Louis, hands pressed between their sides. “Um, Louis?” he asks quietly, waiting for Louis to turn his head to look at him.

“Yeah?” Louis hums, belatedly picking up on Harry’s apprehension.

“Um, aren’t the mermaids like- correct me if I’m wrong, but in the fairy tale they’re like-”

“They’re not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Louis says, smiling when Harry relaxes a bit. “They’re not like they are in the fairy tale. They’re actually quite sweet, Lottie is good friends with them.”

“Oh, good,” Harry sighs in relief, smiling when Louis glances over at him again. “I thought they might get jealous, if they saw some stranger holding your hand.”

Louis seems to suddenly become aware that they’re still holding hands, blinking down at where their fingers are just about slotted together. He seems like he’s going to let go, so Harry holds on tighter.

“Do you-” Louis frowns, looking up at Harry’s face again. “Do you like holding my hand?” he asks quietly, staring at Harry’s eyes so long he nearly forgets to keep moving. 

“I do,” Harry confirms, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “I’ve always dreamt about holding hands with Peter Pan. Not that you’re Peter Pan,” he shrugs, “but you’re a close second.”

Louis laughs and bumps his hip against Harry’s, watching his feet for a moment. “Everything you dreamt it would be?” he asks, looking back up. “Holding my hand, I mean?”

“Even better,” Harry assures, giving Louis’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

Louis’s palm is a bit sweaty against his own suddenly, which is endearing. Harry knows good and well that a side effect of being in Neverland is not growing up, and he wonders if Louis’s ever thought about someone the way Harry is thinking about him.

Harry’s held hands with people before, yeah, a few girls from school and even a boy at summer camp one time. He’s kissed people on the cheek and been kissed on the cheek, never on the lips, but he’s known what it’s like to have a crush on someone. He doesn’t know if Louis’s ever felt that way, though, if he’s mature enough to feel things like that, but he really hopes he is. Louis seems like someone Harry could fall in young love with, and he doesn’t want it to be one sided.

Before he knows it his feet meet sand, and he looks up to see they’ve arrived at the lagoon. Lottie goes whizzing past his head and disappears into the cave at the edge of the water, the light she produces dimming against the cave walls as she goes deeper.

Louis kicks off the thin canvas shoes he’s wearing and digs his toes into the sand, kicking some at Harry and laughing. Harry grins and toes his own shoes off, letting Louis drag him down to the water.

The other boys follow as well, dipping their toes in once they reach the spot where the gentle waves are lapping at the sand. Louis lets go of his hand to start a splash fight with Zayn and Harry flees, getting far enough away that he can safely watch without getting soaked.

“So Louis seems to like you, hm?” Says a voice to his left, and Harry turns to see Liam smiling gently at him. “He was never like that with us when he brought us here. You know, holding hands and that. He even let you inside his treehouse,” he comments, waggling his eyebrows. “That speaks volumes. I don’t think Niall’s ever been in his treehouse, even still,” he laughs.

“Is that so?” Harry laughs, turning to watch as Niall gets dragged into the splash fight as well. “How long have you been here?”

“Long as I can remember,” Liam shrugs. “I don’t really remember anything before I met Louis. I remember that it was nice having parents, but I’ve heard some pretty horrible things about growing up, mostly from Louis, so I figure it’s best to just stick around here.”

Harry frowns at that, turning to look at Liam. “Louis tells you things to keep you here?”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Liam laughs, elbowing Harry’s side lightheartedly. “Not like he’s brainwashing us, or anything. But he’s had some horror stories from times he’s gone to visit England and places, about grown ups and all that. I can’t imagine anything worse than growing up,” he sighs wistfully.

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, looking down at the rippling image of his toes beneath the clear blue water. He’s never given much thought to the idea, but he’s never viewed growing up as something to avoid. He’s kind of always liked the idea of carving his own path, finding someone to be happy with and maybe even have little ones with. When he looks up at Louis, though, soaking wet from head to toe and laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world, he supposes that staying like this forever might not be such a bad thing either.

Louis seems to notice him watching and hits the heel of his hand against the water with quite some force, sending a good sized wave directly at Harry. Harry squeals when it hits him, putting his hands up half a second too late.

Louis laughs loudly and Harry decides that this is war, cupping his hands in the water and throwing it at Louis. Louis dodges the attack easily and Harry nearly throws himself at him, knocking them both over and completely soaking them.

“Harry!” Louis shrieks, giggling manically as he shoves Harry away, making him fall right into the water.

Harry laughs as he falls, holding his breath just in time as he goes under. The warm water feels nice, soaking him so completely, and he decides to stay under for just a moment. He can hear the splash fight, which is now more of a war, still going on, so he doesn’t think anyone will mind if he has a little swim.

He opens his eyes under the water, surprised to find that he can see what appears to be forever. The water is so, so clear, like nothing he’s ever seen before, and he can’t stop looking. That is, until a round, unfamiliar face swims right up in front of his own, blocking his entire view.

Harry startles so hard that he breathes in water, forcing his head above the surface and flailing a bit. He coughs and stumbles back, waving his arms wildly, trying to get someone’s attention.

He feels a hand on his back and looks up to see Louis standing over him, looking at him worriedly. Harry points in the direction of his attacker, and Louis’s eyes soften.

When Harry catches his breath a bit and looks back over, he sees a girl, probably a bit older than himself, looking back at him with a similar worried expression to Louis’s. Harry can see through the water that she doesn’t have any legs, but a thick, green tail.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” The girl, mermaid, asks. Harry nods quickly, catching his breath, mostly milking it so Louis will keep holding him.

“Harry, this is Cara,” Louis says, helping Harry back up onto his feet.

“Sorry again,” Cara giggles, swimming a bit closer and holding out her hand to Harry.

Harry shakes it, giving her a small smile. “Oh, that’s alright. You’re very pretty,” he tells her, somewhat mesmerized by her eyes.

“Thank you,” Cara says sweetly, before ducking under the water and circling around them. Harry watches her from above the water, turning slowly to see where she’ll end up.

She pops back up near the other boys, who are chatting with two other mermaids. Harry, fascinated, moves away from Louis to go say hello.

“Harry, this is Kendall,” Liam says, seeing Harry approach, “and this is Gigi. I think you’ve already met Cara.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry says, smiling when the mermaids giggle softly. They’re incredibly beautiful, prettier than any girls Harry’s ever seen in real life, and he quite literally doesn’t want to stop looking at them, only because he’s amazed that they’re real.

“Careful, Harry, your eyes will dry out if you don’t blink soon,” Louis says from beside him, his voice only the slightest bit bitter. Harry hardly blinks, but he does glance over at him for a second.

Louis gives him a tight smile and then heads back to the sand, shaking his hair out while he goes.

“Oh, someone’s jealous,” Kendall giggles, leaning into Cara’s side.

“I’ve never seen him like that before,” Cara agrees, eyeing Harry up and down. “Who are you, then? You must be quite special?”

Harry shakes his head, looking to Zayn and Niall for help. Liam has followed Louis up to the beach, and is currently laughing at him while Louis pouts and grumbles about something.

“Harry only just got here today, but Louis’s quite smitten,” Zayn tells the girls, eyeing Harry as well. 

“Well, you are a pretty little thing,” Gigi comments, rising up on her tail to pinch Harry’s cheek gently. Harry feels himself blush deeply, smiling to himself when all three of the girls giggle.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem quite smitten, as well,” Cara says, waggling her eyebrows at Harry. Harry blushes even deeper, making all of the girls giggle again.

“Well, let’s see if we can’t help you out with that,” Kendall hums, casting a quick glance over to the beach to make sure Louis is looking. She rises up, then, as Gigi had done, but instead of pinching his cheek she pecks a chaste kiss there instead. Cara follows suit, and then Gigi, until Harry is as red as a tomato and he can hear Louis’s indignant huffing all the way from here.

“We should be off,” Gigi says sadly, pouting at the other girls. “We were in the middle of-” she pauses, and then smirks, “some important business, when Lottie interrupted us.”

Cara and Kendall giggle and wave goodbye, and then the three of them disappear under water and swim back to wherever it is they came from. Harry looks up at Zayn and Niall, a bit flustered, and the other two boys can’t help but laugh.

“Let’s go, then, before Louis implodes,” Zayn rolls his eyes, elbowing Harry’s arm gently and setting off toward the beach. Harry and Niall trail behind, feet covered in soft sand by the time they reach Liam and Louis.

“Well they seemed to like you,” Louis says, crossing his arms over his chest as Harry approaches. “Made some new friends, have you?”

“S’pose I have,” Harry grins, walking right up to Louis and planting a kiss on his cheek. 

Louis goes stiff, blushes all the way to his chest, and promptly drops to the ground to set about putting his shoes back on. Harry smirks and looks at the other boys, who look shocked and vaguely impressed, and then sits down beside Louis to get his shoes back on as well.

-

They spend another few hours exploring the island, and this time Louis’s grip on Harry’s hand doesn’t waver even once. 

The other boys keep poking fun at them, at Louis mostly, but every time Louis blushes Harry just squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek again, and it helps to keep the others at bay. Lottie finds a comfy resting place in his hair and falls asleep there after they’ve been walking a bit, and Harry is really starting to feel like he might belong in this crew.

They explore the forest a bit more, sampling the fruits and berries and even climbing the trees that Louis claims are the best for climbing and for pranking. There’s a tree somewhere near the middle of the forest, not too far from the clearing where the Lost Boys sleep, that’s high enough to see all of Neverland from the top of. Louis drops Harry’s hand and jumps into the air, teasing Harry into following him, and they sit on the top of the tree for far too long with their fingers slotted together, watching the sea.

By the time they come down, the sun has set on Neverland, and the other boys are nowhere to be found. Even Lottie ditched them a while ago to go back to the treehouse.

“Getting late,” Louis comments, eyes somehow still sparkling in the dark. “Should we head back?”

“Yeah, ok,” Harry smiles. He follows Louis blindly through the forest all the way back to the clearing, into the treehouse, and into the sleeping room. The forest is quiet and peaceful, so much different from the city, and Harry kind of loves it.

He finds a comfy spot amidst all the blankets and lays down, smiling when he feels Louis cuddle right up to his back. He turns over to face him, finding his eyes in the dark once the lights are out.

“I like it here,” he whispers. Louis grins at him, so Harry grins back.

“Yeah? Do you think you’ll stay?”

Harry has to think about that for a moment, looks down at where Louis’s blanket is slipping off his shoulder. He reaches out to fix it, bundles Louis up a bit more, and then shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s really lovely here and I really enjoy you and everyone, but…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulder again.

Louis nods, though he looks a bit disappointed. “I hope you’ll decide to stay,” he confesses. “I think you’d be an excellent addition to our crew, and I know the lads really like you, and so do I,” he says. “And so do the mermaids,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

Harry giggles then, which draws a smile out of Louis as well. “Yeah, about that,” he says, “you were totally jealous.”

Louis blushes, visible even in the dark. “I was not! I was just- okay, maybe I was a little, but just because I wanted you to myself,” he confesses, pressing his knee against Harry’s and leaving it there.

“Yup, sounds like jealousy to me,” Harry teases, sticking his tongue out at Louis. Louis smiles at him, but he goes soft after a moment, eyes gentle and suddenly serious.

“You make me feel like, I don’t know how to explain it. Like, with Liam and Niall and Zayn, I’ve always known I liked them from the very second I met them, and that’s why I brought them here with me. But I never felt like I wanted to hold their hands, or have them kiss my cheek, and I never got jealous when they talked to others. With you it’s like- it feels wrong if I’m not holding your hand, and everytime you kiss my cheek the way you do it makes my whole face tingle like there’s a thousand fairies kissing me all over,” he whispers, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush on me,” Harry grins, his own cheeks tinted pink. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a bit of a crush on you, as well.”

“A crush,” Louis laughs, tossing his head back against his pillow. “Who would’ve thought? A crush.”

Harry watches him for a moment, smiling fondly, and then presses his knee against Louis’s to regain his attention. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Louis hums, turning to face him again, tucking his hand under his cheek on his pillow.

“Why did you come to my room? Like, of all the places in London you could’ve been that night, why my room?” he asks, playing with the soft edge of the blanket he’s lying on.

“Well, that was Lottie’s fault, actually,” Louis chuckles, looking down. “We were just flying around, messing about. We go to London every now and again just to see how things are, bring back news to the boys. We were playing hide and seek, actually, and she found an open window and went for it. Lucky for me, it was your window,” he reaches out and boops Harry on the nose. “And then after I’d met you and Lottie and I left, she stopped me and asked if I wanted to go back. And I asked her why she was asking, and she said it was because you seemed like the kind of kid that would never stop believing. And I’ve always thought that the moment you stop believing in something, it ceases to exist. I didn’t want you to stop believing in me,” he explains.

Harry blinks slowly and then smiles, reaching out to cup a hand around the side of Louis’s neck. “I’ve always believed in you, and I’ll never stop,” he whispers.

Louis looks frozen, drawing in a silent breath between his parted lips. Harry can’t help himself, it feels so right, and before he even really knows what he’s doing, he leans in and catches Louis’s lips in the gentlest of kisses.

They just kind of sit there like that for a moment, neither of them moving, and then Harry pulls back. “Is this okay?” He breathes out, lips just an inch away from Louis’s.

Louis nods quickly, places a hand on Harry’s hip, and kisses him again. They both react to it this time, lips sliding easily against each other, and Harry can feel Louis’s pulse in every point they’re touching. It doesn’t last long, a few seconds at most, but when they pull away they’re both breathless and grinning, eyes shining in the dark.

“That was- I like that,” Louis admits, fingers pressing into Harry’s hip, tickling him just a little.

“Me too,” Harry giggles, nudging his head forward to nuzzle into Louis’s neck.

“Goodnight, Hazza,” Louis whispers into Harry’s hair, leaving another gentle, thoughtful kiss in Harry’s hair. Harry doesn’t answer, already well on his way to sleep, but he smiles against the hollow of Louis’s throat and vows to kiss him again first thing in the morning.

-

When Harry wakes up in the morning, it’s to the smell of food cooking and the feeling of something tickling his nose. He snuffles quietly and picks his head up, prying his eyes open to look around.

He finds himself still tucked up in the blankets with Louis, only they’re much closer than they were before and Harry’s all turned around, so that Louis is pressed up against his back. He blinks a few times and then spots Lottie standing atop the pillow beside his face, wings fluttering slowly.

“Good morning,” she sings quietly, poking at Harry’s nose again. “Did you know that you snore?”

“I don’t snore,” Harry murmurs, rubbing at his eyes and putting his head back down on his pillow.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Lottie warns gently, “Zayn is making breakfast. He caught some Fairy Finners earlier,” she says excitedly.

“Fairy Finners?” Harry asks through a yawn, and Lottie nods quickly.

“Yes, Louis’s favorite. It’s a kind of fish he discovered a long, long time ago, and they have these pretty fins that look like fairy wings, so Louis named them Fairy Finners,” she explains, before fluttering over to Louis.

She wakes him much less gently, grabbing a fistful of his eyelashes and prying his eye open. Louis makes a quiet noise of discontent but doesn’t seem to wake up, so Lottie lets go of his eye and reaches up to pull a single strand of hair out of his head.

Louis yelps and startles awake, reaching up to rub at his head. “Ow, Lottie,” he complains, digging his face into the side of Harry’s neck and whining softly. Harry grins and Lottie winks at him, before zipping right out of the room.

“Breakfast is almost ready, I think,” Harry says, turning over so he can slip his fingers into Louis’s hair, soothing the spot that Lottie hurt, even though it can’t possibly still be stinging.

“Five more minutes,” Louis mutters, pressing his cold nose against Harry’s warm collarbone and making a cute, quiet snuffling noise.

“Lottie said Zayn caught some Fairy Finners?” Harry tries, blinking in surprise when Louis whips his head up, quickly enough it must hurt his neck.

“Fairy Finners?” Louis asks excitedly. Harry nods. “Yes! C’mon!” 

Harry laughs at Louis’s sudden excitement, letting himself be pulled up and out of the treehouse. They find the other boys already outside, sitting around the fire pit, which is no longer empty. It’s full with sticks and branches, a small pan hovering precariously above it. Harry watches, amazed, at the pan keeps itself right over the flame in midair, probably by way of pixie dust.

“Oh, look who decided to get up,” Niall teases, sitting cross legged in the dirt with a blanket draped over his shoulders. It’s still a bit chilly, too early for the sun to have warmed the air yet, but it’s a nice morning otherwise.

“Sorry lads, didn’t get too much sleep. Turns out Harry here snores like an animal,” Louis teases, breathing in an exaggerated snoring sound, rolling his eyes back in his head.

Harry blushes when everyone laughs, trying to suppress a smile. “I do not snore!” he argues, flicking Louis’s arm in revenge.

“Course not, love,” Louis appeases, but he blatantly crosses his fingers behind his back while he says it.

“Shut up,” Harry mutters, still grinning, as he sits down on the ground beside Niall.

Louis plops down right next to him, cuddling up to his side. Liam raises his eyebrows at him from across the fire pit, but Louis just shrugs and tucks himself under Harry’s arm. “Cold,” he says, but Harry catches him wink quickly at Liam.

Zayn finishes with the fish a few moments later, pulling the pan away from the fire with a gloved hand and spooning some food onto some mismatched, slightly chipped looking plates.

Harry takes his wearily, accepting a fork as well and setting the plate down on his lap. Everyone else digs in and looks quite pleased about it, but Harry’s never been big on fish, and he’s not sure he’s going to like it.

“Eat up,” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear. “Zayn will cry if he thinks you don’t like his cooking.”

“No, it’s not that,” Harry murmurs back, fiddling with his fork. “Just never liked fish very much,” he confesses, looking over at Louis.

Louis just smirks at him, nudging his shoulder against him. “Just try it,” he whispers, winking and stuffing his mouth with another bite of food.

“Oi, lovebirds, what are we whispering about?” Niall joins in, leaning into Harry’s opposite side and chewing obnoxiously in his ear.

Louis reaches out to flick Niall square in the forehead and Harry laughs as Niall flinches away, whining loudly and rubbing at his head. Louis nudges Harry again while everyone is busy cooing at Niall, and Harry takes a deep breath and then tries a nibble of the food.

He chews slowly for a moment, eyes widening as he turns to look at Louis. Louis just smiles at him and keeps eating, or rather just shoving food in his mouth, and Harry doesn’t know whether to follow his lead or take his time and enjoy every bite.

The fish is like nothing he’s ever tasted before: the perfect mixture of sweet and savory. There’s a hint of something inexplainable that makes him unable to stop eating, until he’s literally scraping the crumbs off the bottom of the plate.

By the time they’re all finished eating the sun has fully risen, casting warm light down on the clearing and making them all spread out a bit. It’s a good day for another swim, Harry thinks, hopes the boys will indulge him.

“Lads, I think we should show Hazza the bay today,” Louis says after a few moments, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Think it’s going to be quite warm.”

“The bay?” Harry asks excitedly. “Like, a real beach? With waves and everything?” he asks, sitting up and looking back at Louis.

“Yes, with waves and everything,” Louis grins.

“Sick,” Harry hums, looking back toward the other boys. “Never been to the beach before.”

“You’ve never been to the beach?” Liam asks, sitting up.

“Never in your life?” Zayn adds, sitting up as well.

“Never in my life,” Harry confirms. “Mum doesn’t like the sand and the heat and dad’s always too busy to take us anywhere,” he explains, shrugging one shoulder and looking down at his feet.

Everyone goes quiet for a moment and when Harry looks up they’re all just looking at him, almost sadly. He realizes then that it is a bit sad that he’s been alive for almost fifteen years and his parents have never bothered to take him to the beach, even if they had their reasons. It isn’t like the beach is out of the question; it’s only a few hours drive, and they’d gone on plenty of boring, terrible vacations that could have been much better spent in the sun.

It starts him thinking about all the other things he’s already done here that he’d never gotten to do at home, like eating fruit right off the bush, or even climbing trees. He swam with _mermaids_ yesterday, how can his home life compare to that? He thinks about Louis offer, thinks about staying here forever, and suddenly it doesn’t seem so crazy anymore.

“Harry?” Louis asks carefully, startling him out of his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder.

“What?” Harry asks, blushing slightly as he turns to look at Louis.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” Louis repeats, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Yeah,” Harry says quickly, smiling as well. “I do. I really do.”

“Let’s go, then!” Louis cheers. All the other boys follow suit and they all jump up off the ground, piling their plates next to the dying fire and taking off for the woods.

Lottie stays behind, grumbling about the clearing up, while Harry does his best to keep up with the boys. They go on foot, as it’s not very long of a journey, and before Harry knows it, they break through the line of trees and out onto the beach.

There are waves and everything, just as Louis promised. The sand is so, so soft beneath Harry’s feet and the water is the same clear, stunning blue as in the lagoon, but here it swells and froths and retreats like Harry’s only ever seen in movies, and he can’t wait to touch it.

He takes off at a run for the water, laughing as the boys all shout and chase after him. He jumps over an incoming wave and splashes down in the cool water, laughing brightly as he feels it soak through his trousers.

He feels Louis come up behind him and turns, grinning widely. Louis reaches out to tug on one of his curls, still extra bouncy from swimming the day before, and Harry reaches up to hold his hand.

“Everything you dreamt it would be?” Louis asks hopefully. It seems to be a favorite question of his. 

“Absolutely everything,” Harry answers a bit breathlessly, giggling at the feeling of the retreating wave taking some of the sand out from under his feet as it goes.

“Good,” Louis hums, hesitating and then quickly pecking a kiss to Harry’s lips. Harry blinks in surprise and then laughs, breaking away from him and diving toward deeper water.

He feels Louis coming after him and swims harder, feeling his few years of swimming lessons in the city pool coming back to him. When he finally pops his head up to breathe he finds that he can no longer touch the bottom, and treads water as he turns back to look for Louis.

Louis is a few feet back, at chest height in the water. He’s pouting and reaching for Harry, eyes widening when a wave comes particularly close to going over his head.

“Come back!” Louis calls, pouting some more and making grabby hands at him.

“Come get me!” Harry challenges, kicking his legs to keep himself afloat.

“I can’t swim!” Louis confesses, shrugging his shoulders.

“You don’t know how to swim?” Harry asks curiously, swimming just a bit closer.

“Never learned how,” Louis shrugs again. “I can fly, I don’t need to swim.”

Harry grins, swimming a tiny bit closer again. “Well fly to me, then,” he says, watching Louis’s face shift into a smirk.

Louis wades back to shallower water and jumps into the air, hovering just above the surface of the water to where Harry’s head is bobbing. Harry smiles widely at him and Louis pecks a kiss to his nose, making Harry giggle.

A wave comes along and pushes Harry forward, making him collide with Louis. They both burst out laughing as their faces crash together, and Louis reaches for Harry’s hands to pull him back to shallower water.

They end up getting out of the water entirely, walking up to where the rest of the boys are, spread out in the wet sand just out of reach of where the waves are lapping. It’s cooler there than up on the dry sand, so Louis lays flat on his back beside Zayn and lets Harry rest his head on his chest.

Harry is content to spend the rest of his life just like this, warm and comfy and beyond happy. The water just barely laps at his toes when there’s a particularly big wave and he loves the way it tickles, smiling against Louis’s chest.

He doesn’t quite fall asleep, but he zones in and out of consciousness for quite some time as they lay there. The other boys chat intermittently but Harry doesn’t pay too much attention, too focused on the way Louis’s heart beats steadily under his ear.

He must doze off at least a little, because suddenly when the voices around him turn panicked, he feels groggy and a bit dazed.

“Louis,” someone says urgently, and Harry recognizes the voice as Zayn’s. “Lou! Shit, get up!”

Louis sits up quickly, dislodging Harry from his comfy resting place, and swears under his breath. “C’mon, c’mon, we have to go,” he’s saying, grabbing at Harry’s arm and trying to pull him along will he scrambles to his feet.

“What? What’s going on?” Harry asks, suddenly a bit more awake than he was a second ago. He turns around when he hears shouting from the water, his heart speeding up when he sees some angry, dirty looking men splashing toward them. There’s a big, huge pirate ship a few hundred feet out, and Harry wonders how they couldn’t have heard the men coming before now.

“Simon and his men, they’re always after me,” Louis explains quickly, still tugging on Harry’s arm. “They’re like Captain Hook and the pirates in the fairy tale. We have to _go_ ,” he pleads. They break into a run just as the pirates are reaching the shore, making a mad dash for the woods.

“They’re gonna catch us on foot, lads,” Louis shouts, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder. The men are much bigger and faster, and they’re gaining on them easily. “We have to fly! Go!”

Harry watches in horror as the boys start taking off, jumping desperately and hoping there’s still enough pixie dust left in him to get him to the trees. He cries out when he can’t get off the ground, still running and reaching for Louis.

“Louis!” He screams, running and leaping and praying that he’ll magically just start flying. “Louis! I can’t fly!”

He watches as Louis’s body goes rigid in the air and then he turns around, looking down at Harry with nothing but panic in his eyes.

“Lottie!” Louis screams, diving back down for Harry, but Harry feels a hand close around his arm before Louis can get to him. “Lottie where are you!” Louis screeches, trying desperately to get to Harry without getting grabbed himself, even as the pirate gets a better hold on Harry and takes him down.

“Louis!” Harry cries, thrashing against the man’s hold. “Help me! Louis!”

The man holding Harry down suddenly picks him up, throwing him over his shoulder and holding his legs tightly as they start to make back for the dingies they came to shore in.

“Louis!” Harry screams again, pounding against the pirate’s back, trying to free himself.

“Let him go!” Louis is shouting, narrowly avoiding having his ankle grabbed by one of the pirates. “He didn’t do anything, let him go! It’s me you’re after!”

“You’ll surrender to Simon, or you’ll never see him again,” one of the pirates is shouting back at Louis, and Harry feels a flash of fear stronger than anything he’s ever felt in his life.

He does the only thing he can think of, reaching up behind himself and grabbing the pirate by his long, mangy hair and _pulling_ as hard as he can. The man cries out in pain and then grumbles something to one of the others, and a second later Harry feels a sudden, sharp pain on the back of his head and then there’s nothing.

-

It’s dark when he wakes up. It smells faintly of stale bread and sour rum and maybe a hint of death, but Harry can’t be sure. 

The only source of light he can see is a small porthole window a few feet above his head, and by the rocking of the floor beneath him and the shouting and footsteps above him, he assumes he’s on board the pirate ship.

He groans and moves to stretch his legs, frowning when he finds them a lot heavier than he did the last time he checked. When he looks down he finds that he’s chained at the wrists and the ankles, and there’s some slack, but not enough that he could get too far.

Further inspection of his surroundings reveals that he’s thoroughly locked up, behind bars and everything. It’s too dark to see too far beyond the bars of the cell he’s in, but he thinks he might be in the storage hold.

He tries for a moment to slip his hand out of the cuff, whimpering when he finds that it’s just tight enough to keep him in. He feels his heart start to pick up again, anxiety starting to set in, wondering what Louis is doing. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him if Louis doesn’t surrender, but he knows that he doesn’t want him to. He knows for a fact that if Louis surrenders he’s going to be killed, or maybe even worse, and the thought is unbearable. But he also doesn’t know how they’re going to get out of this without one or both of them getting killed, and as clever as he knows Louis is, he doesn’t see how this is going to end well.

He feels tears pricking at his eyes and he pulls against his restraints again but he knows it’s no use, slumped in the corner of his cage. There’s no way out.

He closes his eyes and starts to pretend that he’s at home, safe in his bed. He thinks he could have lived having never gone to the beach, if just to have his mum kiss his forehead goodnight just one more time. A tear rolls down his cheek and he slumps a little more, caving in on himself and wishing he was home, wishing for his bed, wishing he was still wrapped up in Louis’s arms in his treehouse or on the beach and this will have just been a terrible dream.

He hears a quiet tinkling and snaps his eyes open, looking around for the familiar ball of light. There’s a soft glow behind some large object in the dark corner of the hold, and then a tiny blue head peeks out from beside it.

Harry sits up quickly and Lottie tinkles at him angrily, looking around to make sure the coast is clear before she zips over to him. She tinkles quietly at the chains binding his hands and feet and then sits down in the crook of his elbow, looking up at him.

“You got caught,” she tells him, smiling sadly at him.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Harry grumbles, wiping at his cheeks with the arm that Lottie isn’t sitting on.

“Oh, don’t cry,” she tells him, fluttering up to wipe under his eyes with her tiny hands. “Louis has a plan.”

“He does?” Harry whispers, mindful of the way he can hear the voices through the ceiling; he knows they might be able to hear him too.

“Oh, yes. Louis always has a plan,” Lottie scoffs, flicking her long hair away from her face. “He was so devastated when he finally got back to the treehouse, crying and everything. He’s taking a page from your book, though,” she says, smiling at him proudly.

“How do you mean?” Harry murmurs, frowning down at the little fairy.

“From the fairy tale,” Lottie tinkles happily. “You know the part when Hook gets Wendy and the boys, and he’s making them walk the plank?” Harry nods. “What does Peter do?”

Harry shakes his head slowly, thinking for a moment. “He waits under it, and catches Wendy when she falls,” he says quietly, looking at Lottie for confirmation.

“Yes!” She cheers quietly, wings fluttering excitedly. “You don’t look sure.”

“Well, I mean,” Harry huffs, rolling his neck to look at the ceiling and then back at Lottie. “What if they don’t have me walk the plank? What if they decide to make it quick, and, I don’t know, slit my throat?”

Lottie frowns, sinking back down to sit on his arm again. “Hm. We didn’t account for this.”

Harry laughs miserably, thumping his head back against the wall. “I’m gonna die,” he whispers, staring up at the ceiling.

Lottie tinkles angrily and then flies right up into his face, surprising Harry a bit. “Now you listen here, Harry,” she hisses, her bell-like voice still sweet but somehow venomous. “I’ve known Louis my whole life. He’s the reason I’m still here, as am I for him,” she tells him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Never a day in my life, and there have been a lot of days in my life, have I lost faith in him. Never for a second have I not believed in Louis. Look at me,” she demands, even though Harry’s eyes are already glued to her. “Do you believe in Louis?”

Harry flounders for a moment, picking his head up and drawing in a sharp breath. “Of course I believe in him, but-”

“No,” Lottie cuts him off firmly, holding up one teeny finger. “Yes or no. Do you believe in him?”

“Yes,” Harry says quietly. “I believe in him.”

“Say it again,” Lottie demands, jabbing her finger against Harry’s cheek.

“I believe in him.”

“Again.”

“Jesus, Lottie, I believe in him!”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” Harry says, loudly enough that he startles even himself. He quiets quickly, listening for any pirates coming down, and continues when he decides it’s okay. “I believe in Louis. I’ve believed in him my whole life,” he breathes out, looking at Lottie with wide, sincere eyes.

Lottie seems to accept his answer, finally, nodding her head slowly. “Good. Just keep believing in him, Harry, and I swear. I promise it’ll turn out okay.” She puts her little hands on his cheeks, squishing his lips together. “Just. Don’t. Lose. Faith.”

Harry nods, feeling tears welling up in his eyes again. He believes in Louis, of course he does, trusts him implicitly, but he’s so, so scared and no amount of faith is going to help that.

Lottie looks up at the ceiling and huffs a breath, giving Harry’s cheek one more strong pat. “They’re coming. You’re gonna be fine. Just believe in him.”

With that, Lottie flutters up on top of Harry’s head, hiding herself in his fluffy hair. She goes completely still once she’s thoroughly buried, just in time for three angry looking pirates to come stomping down into the hold.

Harry’s heart picks up again as the pirates approach, unlocking the door to the cell and walking over to him wordlessly. Harry whimpers in fear despite his best efforts to stay silent, and Lottie strokes his head in a way that is probably meant to be soothing.

Once all of his cuffs are unlocked Harry is yanked up from the floor, and he whimpers again as he’s shoved out of the cell and toward the ladder. “Climb,” a dirty pirate growls in his ear, and with shaking hands and knees, Harry climbs.

The sunlight almost hurts when he makes it to the deck. He squints against it and feels his eyes water as he’s shoved again, this time in the direction of the railing over the side of the ship. He walks as quickly as his weak knees can manage, barely holding in the tears as he’s bent over the railing and his hands are tied with a rough, scratchy rope behind his back.

He’s yanked up again when he’s tied tight enough to hurt, and then shoved right down onto his knees. He can’t hold in his cry this time, sobbing quietly as he looks up at the captain of the ship, stood before him like the villain from Harry’s worst nightmare.

He looks nothing like Captain Hook, or at least how he’s described in the fairy tale. He has both hands, for starters, and greying hair with a short, unkempt looking beard. His eyes are stern and set far apart, his stance strong enough that Harry can’t help but cower before him.

“You look scared,” Simon laughs humorlessly, tracing under Harry’s chin with the sharp point of a dagger. Harry’s body goes rigid, fearing that he was right after all. Simon is going to slit his throat, and he’s going to die, and there will have been nothing Louis could do.

“Where’s your precious Louis, hm?” Simon asks, resheathing his dagger at his hip and looking around. “Not so tough now, is he? We had words earlier, you know. He’s decided to give you up in order to save himself,” Simon tells him, an evil glint in his eye.

Harry feels another wave of tears coming. “That’s not true,” Lottie whispers, tugging his hair a little bit, and Harry decides he’d like to trust her instead.

“And the thing is,” Simon hums, walking a slow circle around Harry. Harry feels like sharkbait, in more ways than one. “I don’t really have use for you. If Louis can throw you overboard, simple as that,” he puts the toe of his boot against Harry’s tailbone and pushes just enough to shake his balance, “then I suppose I can as well.”

Harry’s eyes are full with tears again as he’s yanked up off the floor, manhandled back to the side of the ship. He can’t stop a tear from rolling as the plank is set up, and then he’s shoved and prodded at until he steps up on it.

He sobs quietly, and Lottie shushes him. “You’re fine,” she assures, “believe in him.”

“Where are you now, _Peter Pan_?” Simon shouts, face pointed toward the sky. “Your precious boy is about to walk the plank, and you’re too _cowardly_ to save him!”

“Believe in him,” Lottie whispers.

“He’s going to die, and it’s going to be your fault!”

“Believe in him, Harry.”

“Walk the plank, boy!”

“He’s there. Believe in him. Believe in him.”

 _Believe believe believe_ Harry chants over and over in his head, taking a first tentative step toward the edge. _Believe._ Another step. _Believe._

He reaches the end of the plank and looks over. Nothing but sea. He sobs again and closes his eyes. _Believe._

He takes another step and, his entire body trembling, lets himself fall. 

There’s a second of weightlessness, freefalling, the rush of wind past his ears and the wild thump of his heart in his chest. There’s the urge to scream in fear, but he holds it in, because he will not go out like that, he won’t.

He waits for the splash, for the icy cold water, but it doesn’t come. Instead he just feels impact, like he’s been hit by a bus, and he can’t breathe, can’t breathe. It doesn’t feel like water he’s sinking in, it feels like air he’s rushing through, and when he pries his eyes open, all he sees is sky.

“Got you, got you,” Louis is murmuring, holding him tight against his chest. Harry wants to cry again, but Louis is keeping his voice down, so Harry follows his lead. They’re just under the deck, hidden by the curve of the bow, and listening to the frantic voices above them. “How’s that for your fairy tale?” Louis smirks, looking down at Harry and beaming at his awestruck face.

Lottie peeks out of his hair and lets out a sigh of relief, disentangling herself from Harry’s curls and hovering above him. She zips around a bit and drops just enough pixie dust on his head that he starts to get that weightless feeling, and when he can float without Louis’s help, Louis draws a dagger to cut free his wrists so he can take one of his hands in his own.

“Smile,” he hums, before thrusting upward, bringing Harry with him as they fly up and over the deck of the ship. Louis is laughing loudly, clutching Harry’s hand like a vice, and flying circles around all of the pirates.

“You bastard!” Simon screams, drawing his dagger again and pointing it up at Louis. “I’ll get you next time, _Peter Pan_!”

“In your dreams, _Captain Hook_!” Louis laughs gleefully, waving goodbye and turning to look at Harry. “Ready?”

Harry just laces their fingers together, nodding slightly. “I believe in you.”

Louis gives him the softest, warmest smile, and then they’re flying so fast back to the island that Harry can’t help but shout in exhilaration.

-

They’re welcomed back to the clearing by an eerie, unnerving silence. Louis keeps his hold on Harry’s hand as they touch down, pulling him over to one of the small huts. He opens the door just a crack and peeks in, squeezing Harry’s hand tightly.

“Louis!” Comes Niall’s voice, and then some shuffling as they all stand up, still hidden from Harry’s view behind the door.

“Did you get him?” Liam asks nervously.

“Is he okay?” Zayn asks, voice quiet and sombre.

Louis grins and pushes the door the rest of the way open, revealing Harry to the rest of the boys wordlessly. Harry grins at them and it’s like they all come to life at once, shouting happily and running straight at him.

Niall gets him first, tackles him straight back into the dirt and hugs the life out of him. Zayn and Liam aren’t far behind, and then Harry’s being smothered by all three of them.

“We were so worried!”

“We thought we’d never see you again!”

“We’re so happy you’re okay!”

Harry just laughs and lets it happen, soaking up the affection happily. Louis digs him out from under the pile after a few minutes and hugs him tightest of all, digging his face into his neck.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers against his ear, wrapping his arms around him and holding him back just as tight. “For saving me.”

“Thank you,” Louis mumbles, face pressed right into Harry’s collarbone. “For believing in me.”

“We should celebrate,” Niall suggests, as soon as Harry and Louis break apart. “Have a party, maybe? Invite the Indians and the fairies down and have a bonfire and celebrate Harry!” he says, growing increasingly louder as he talks.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Liam agrees, looking to Louis. “Can we?”

Louis looks to Harry, and Harry looks back at him. “Up for a party, Harold?” he asks, reaching for his hand again without even seeming to think about it.

“Always up for a party,” Harry says, grinning as he looks back to the other boys.

Everyone whoops and hollers and scatters, setting off to start getting things in order for a party. Niall and Lottie volunteer to go get the fairies, Liam the Indians, and Zayn slips off to go hunt for some food. Harry and Louis stick to the forest around the clearing, gathering wood and tossing it into the fire pit for the bonfire.

“The parties around here can get a bit crazy,” Louis warns him, smiling as he drops a bundle of sticks into the fire pit. “Lots of food, lots of dancing, and we can usually go all night,” he says. “If you bail in the middle the lads will hold it against you for the rest of your life, so you’d better be prepared.”

Harry laughs softly, trying to drag a particularly big log over to the fire pit. “Oh, I can go all night,” he assures, dropping the log into the pit and grinning at Louis. “Once, I even stayed up the _entire_ night at a sleepover. The whole night!” He says, like he doesn’t think Louis will believe him.

“Oh, wow, a _whole_ night? You’re really something else,” he says sarcastically rolling his eyes fondly. 

“Hey! It’s impressive,” Harry argues, sticking his tongue out at Louis. “I’ll have you know I was the only one at the whole sleepover who didn’t fall asleep even once.”

Louis laughs softly, walking up to where Harry is collecting some dead branches from around the base of a tree. “I’m impressed,” he assures, reaching out to hold Harry gently by the hips. “I’m so impressed.”

“You’re making fun of me,” Harry pouts, leaning back against the tree.

“I’m not,” Louis says, but he’s grinning ear to ear, stepping a little closer.

“You are,” Harry argues.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Are too-”

Louis cuts him off, pressing his lips against Harry’s just to make him stop. It takes a moment to turn into a kiss, but finally it does, and Harry can’t help but move his arms to drape over Louis’s shoulders. Louis experiments a bit, pushing his tongue against Harry’s lips, and then they’re full on making out against the tree, firewood be damned.

It lasts for much longer than it should, really. Long enough that they don’t hear footsteps approaching them, and that neither of them flinches when someone awkwardly clears their throat.

It isn’t until an arrow whizzes past Louis’s ear and impales the tree directly beside Harry’s head that they finally startle apart, both of them whipping around to get a look at their attacker. Zayn is just standing a few feet away, looking mildly annoyed, a few dead rabbits and birds hanging on a rope over his shoulder.

“You two done?” He asks uninterestedly, cocking an eyebrow at them.

“You could have killed us!” Louis cries dramatically, placing a hand on Harry’s chest without taking his eyes off of Zayn. “What if you killed him? I just went through all that trouble saving him from Simon, and now you’re trying to off him, as well,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry laughs softly and wraps his arms around Louis’s waist from behind, tucking his chin over his shoulder. “I don’t think he meant it,” he hums, giggling quietly when Zayn pretends to gag and starts walking back toward the clearing.

“Yeah, but he could have hit you,” Louis pouts again, turning around in Harry’s arms. “Or me, but more importantly you,” he mumbles, reaching up to snap the arrow stuck in the tree.

Harry rolls his eyes, keeping his arms around Louis’s waist and leaning back against the tree again, holding Louis against his body. “That’s pretty cool that he hunts with a bow and arrow. Think he’d teach me how?” he asks, looking up at the broken arrow.

“No,” Louis scoffs, grinning up at him. “First of all, Zayn doesn’t teach. He’s more of the silent loner type,” he hums. “But also, I don’t think you could be trusted anywhere near a bow and arrow,” he admits, laughing at Harry’s outraged face.

“I could too!” He argues, pinching Louis’s hip. “I would be a great hunter. Except killing the animals would be sad. And I don’t really have the best aim,” he shrugs, suppressing a smile at Louis’s answering giggle.

“Yeah, you’d be great at it,” Louis appeases. “Let’s head back to the clearing, everyone will be arriving soon,” he says, patting Harry’s chest and then slipping out of his arms, leading him back to the clearing.

Zayn and Liam are already setting about getting the fire lit, and Niall and Lottie are just getting back as well. Everyone is set to arrive in just a few minutes, and then Zayn will get to cooking and the party will start.

Harry sticks close to Louis when the Indians start showing up, bringing with them a bunch of fancy, foreign musical instruments and some more food to add to the little feast. Louis starts to proudly introduce Harry to everyone, starting with the chief, and Harry is overwhelmed.

“Are they like they are in the fairy tale?” he asks quietly, interrupting Louis before he can get anyone’s attention. Louis frowns at him, pondering for a moment.

“How are they in the fairy tale? It’s been awhile since I’ve read it,” he admits. “They’re quite nice, though, as long as you’re respectful, which you are, so don’t worry about it.”

Harry nods and tries not to cling to Louis’s arm, being as friendly and sociable as he knows how.

“Chief,” Louis greets, giving the tall, stiff looking man a short bow. 

“Louis,” the chief bows back, giving Louis a warm little smile that Harry supposes most people on this island have reserved just for Louis.

“Chief, I’d like you to meet Harry. He’s a new friend, a very brave one. We’re lucky to have him with us,” Louis says, gently pushing Harry forward.

“Hello,” Harry says, bowing much lower than he probably should. “It is very nice to meet you.”

He hears the chief chuckle a little bit and straightens up, glancing at Louis for confirmation. Louis just looks fond, smiling at him and shaking his head slowly.

The chief lifts his chin a bit and gives Harry a quick once over, appraising. Harry shifts his weight under his gaze nervously, but relaxes when the chief smiles. “Welcome to Neverland,” he says finally, giving Harry the same short bow he gave Louis and then excusing himself quietly.

Louis starts laughing as soon as the chief is out of earshot, and Harry drops his head into his neck. “Did I just embarrass myself?” He asks, voice muffled against Louis’s shoulder.

“No, course not, love,” Louis chuckles, patting his back gently and then pulling away to lead him closer to the party.

Things get a bit more interesting once the fairies arrive, bright little orbs filling the already darkening air. The usual quiet tinkling that Harry is used to around Lottie intensifies tenfold, as a swarm of little fairies descends on the clearing.

Lottie introduces some of them to Harry excitedly, but the Indians have struck up some tunes and between that and the sound of happy tinkling from every direction, Harry hardly remembers any names.

As it gets darker, the party only gets louder. The food gets served and the music stops for a bit, but as soon as everyone is done, everything only intensifies. Louis tries to teach Harry how to dance like the Indians do, which can only be described as messy, and it’s all great fun.

Except no one seems to bear any thought to what will come after; people are eating and dancing at the same time, and Harry thinks they’re bound to get stitches soon, and plates and dishes keep accidentally being broken, and someone is going to step on the shards and need a hospital. Harry tries to ignore it, tries to have a good time, but there’s no adults and everything seems dangerous, and Harry isn’t sure he’s enjoying it.

He gets separated from Louis after a while, which is fine, really. He dances with Niall and Liam and chats with Zayn, and some of the fairies fawn over his hair and dimples and the color of his eyes. Apparently they’ve only ever seen that shade of green in other fairies, and they decide he must be a fairy that accidentally became a human.

“Having fun?” Zayn asks him a while later, when he’s standing off to the side. It’s not the first time he’s had to step out to have a breather, and it’s also not the second, third, or fourth time.

“Yeah, this is crazy,” he says, smiling over at Zayn. “And you? Having fun?”

Zayn shrugs and nods, tucking his hands under his arms to warm them. It’s quite chilly all the way over here, nowhere near the bonfire. “Yeah, pretty used to it. Parties like these aren’t rare, and I’ve never been much an extrovert, but you learn how to enjoy yourself, I suppose,” he hums.

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, watching the party for another few moments. One of the Indian girls keeps coming dangerously close to stepping on a shattered teacup, and Harry doubts her pretty cloth shoes would do much to protect her. “Do people ever like, get hurt at these things? Like, there’s a lot of broken things around…” he shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant and uncaring.

Zayn smiles at him, though, a knowing smile that makes Harry blush a little. “You’re worried,” he points out.

“Yeah, guess I am, a bit,” Harry admits, tucking his hands under his arms to mirror Zayn. “Just don’t want to see the party end in tears, I suppose.”

“Don’t let Louis see you worrying,” Zayn says, nudging his shoulder gently. “It’ll make him feel bad. One of the great things about this place is that everybody cares, but nobody gets in the way of someone else’s fun, even if it’s for good reason. It’s a flawed system, yeah, but it’s how it is, and it usually all works out for the best,” he says honestly.

“I s’pose,” Harry sighs, still watching the oblivious Indian girl. She shifts just before her heel is about to come down on the teacup and she starts dancing away, her feet safe for another moment. “It just seems a little…”

“Messy?” Zayn supplies. “Unorganized? Dangerous? Yes, yes, and yes,” he laughs. “But worrying is a mother’s job, and none of us have mothers here, so,” he shrugs, like there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Harry nods and looks down at his feet, chewing the inside of his lip. The thing is, Harry does have a mother. Harry has a mother back home in England who he’s been away from for two days now, who is probably worried sick about him and misses him so much. Not only does he have a mother, but he has a father, too, and he has a sister who he doesn’t want to let grow up alone. He has a good home, even if it’s a bit boring sometimes, and this was a fun adventure, but Harry doesn’t think he can stay.

Zayn looks over at him again after a minute, meeting his eyes. He smiles sadly, and Harry just presses his lips together.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now,” Zayn says quietly, seriously, “you’re probably right. If this isn’t for you, it isn’t for you. If you don’t want to stay, then you shouldn’t. Louis will understand.”

Harry feels inexplicably like crying, looking back toward the party. “I love it here,” he admits, voice tight. “And I love you guys, and I really don’t want to go. But I love my home, too, my family, my friends, my life. I don’t think I can stay here,” he whispers, looking up at Zayn sadly.

Zayn gives him another small smile, and then reaches out to hug him. “It’s okay,” he assures, holding Harry tight for a moment. “I’ve thought about leaving too, sometimes. This is my home now, though, these are my boys, this is where I belong. But I can see that it isn’t for you. And that’s okay.”

“I don’t-” Harry cuts himself off, taking a deep breath and staring at the fire for a few moments. “I don’t want to lose Louis. Or any of you. I’d love to come back and visit sometimes,” he says, looking hopefully at Zayn.

Zayn shakes his head, smiling regretfully. “Nah, doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid. Messes you up a bit, and when you leave,” he pauses, looking out to the fire now. “When you leave, you’ll grow up. And then- well, you get the point.”

Harry’s heart sinks in his chest, because he knows Zayn is right. Harry will grow up, and he’ll get too old for this, even though he’s sure he’ll never stop believing in it. He’ll get too old, and Louis won’t want him anymore. He takes deep breath to fend off the tears for another moment, and Zayn wordlessly offers another hug.

“Hey,” says a bubbly voice a moment later, and both boys look up to see Louis, red cheeked and messy haired, bouncing over to them. “Party’s not over here, lads! Everything alright?” he asks, seeing the sombre looks on both Harry and Zayn’s faces.

Harry nods quickly, and Zayn smiles. “All good,” Zayn hums, patting Harry’s back once more and walking away. 

Louis grabs at Harry’s hand, pulling at him. “C’mon, let’s go dance! The fairies are putting on a sick little show, you have to see,” he says, tugging Harry right back into the thick of it.

Harry decides that if he’s only got one more night with Louis, he’s going to make it count. These might be his last memories in Neverland and he’s not going to waste them being sad. He follows Louis right over to where everyone is moving, dancing along with the fairies, and doesn’t think about a single broken plate for the rest of the night.

-

Harry doesn’t remember making the conscious effort to leave the party, but here he is, pressed up against the inside of the door of Louis’s treehouse, getting his face thoroughly snogged off. The music is still loud and clear outside and he can hear people laughing, slipping his hands up under Louis’s shirt and feeling his warm, soft skin.

Harry is surprised that Louis isn’t a fairy himself, because for all the warmth he embodies, it almost seems like he should be glowing as well.

Somehow they migrate without separating even an inch, making it all the way from the door to Louis’s sleeping room. There’s a soft pile of blankets that Harry finds himself on his back in, Louis on top of him, his weight a pleasant pressure gluing his back to the floor.

They keep kissing, mostly innocent, save for a few experimental touches here and there. It’s nice, and it’s warm and it makes Harry feel so, so good, but he can’t stop his mind from wandering. Tomorrow he’ll go home, he’ll tell Louis goodbye and he’ll fly all the way back to London and pretend not to be heartbroken because no one will believe him when he tells them what he’s been through. He’ll tell Louis goodbye and then live the rest of his life with the knowledge that Louis is here, without him, forever a kid, and Harry is growing up and moving on and what if he stops believing, what if he forgets, what if he _stops believing_?

Neither of them notice that Harry is crying until he makes a gasping, shuddering noise into Louis’s mouth, and Louis pulls away like he’s been shocked. His eyes widen in concern and he immediately starts to wipe at Harry’s cheeks, shaking his head.

“Hey, love, don’t cry. Harry, you’re okay,” he assures, but his eyes look sad, like he already knows. “Harry, please. You’re okay. Talk to me, talk to me,” he pleads, eyes wet and shiny.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whimpers, fingers pressing into Louis’s back, trying to get him closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, lips pulling down like he’s going to cry as well.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and Louis rolls off of him, pulling him into his side. Harry curls up and cries, pressing his face into Louis’s neck and leaving wet, open mouthed kisses there, almost like a plea. Louis lets him cry until he’s done, and then holds him for just a bit longer.

Neither one of them wants to say it, but Harry hopes Louis will say it first, because the words may actually kill him if he tries himself.

Louis sits up after a few minutes, rubbing at his eyes just a little bit. He hugs his knees to his chest, looking so, so small that Harry can hardly stand to look at him. He does anyway.

“You’re not staying,” Louis finally whispers. It’s not a question, but a statement. He knows.

“No,” Harry whispers back, sniffling quietly again.

Louis hangs his head, hiding between his own knees for just a moment.

“I wish I could stay-”

“You can stay,” Louis grits out, turning to look at him again. There are tears in his eyes, and Harry aches with the knowledge that he put them there.

He shakes his head slowly, suppressing a sob. “I can’t. This is my dream, this is everything I’ve ever wanted, but,” he looks away, glancing out the window. “I need to go home. I don’t belong here.”

Louis makes an angry little noise, turning away from him again.

“If I could fly-” Harry starts, but Louis very nearly screams. 

“You can’t!” He shouts, getting to his feet and whipping around to face him. “Do you understand that? You can’t fly! You can’t fly, Harry!”

“I know,” Harry sobs softly, hanging his head as the tears make their way back.

Louis drops to his knees in front of him, his expression pained. “Don’t go. You can stay here. We can help you, we’ll get you through whatever you’re feeling. You don’t have to go. You don’t have to grow up,” he says, breathless and pleading.

“I do, though,” Harry whimpers, looking up at him. “I do have to grow up. This isn’t for me, this isn’t my home. I love it here, but I don’t belong here, Louis.”

Louis stares at him for a moment longer and then wipes at his cheeks, shaking his head. “Of course you don’t. You don’t know what’s good for you. You’re gonna go back there and you’re gonna become old and miserable like the rest of them. How could you pass this up? How can you do this?” He asks. He sounds angry, livid, even, and Harry just looks down.

Louis shakes his head again, huffing out a breath. “Whatever. I tried. This is your own fault, remember that when you’re a miserable old bastard like the rest of them,” he bites. “Lottie will take you back in the morning,” he grumbles, turning on his heel and marching out of the treehouse.

Harry sobs again and lays down, burying himself in Louis’s blankets. He knew Louis would be upset but he didn’t think he would be so horrible, didn’t think he would hate him for it.

He falls asleep before long, because it’s been a long, eventful day, and being awake hurts. He doesn’t dream, curled up in Louis’s sleeping room, and Louis never comes back.

-

Harry wakes up before it’s fully light out, still alone in Louis’s treehouse. He rubs at his eyes, which are a bit sore from crying, and takes a moment to convince himself to sit up.

The forest is silent, even more so than it usually is, but it might have something to do with the fact that the sun isn’t even all the way up yet, or maybe it has something to do with the fact that the universe knows Louis is sad.

Harry moves to lean against the wall, dropping his head back against it. He tries to memorize every last bit of the room, because this is the last time he’ll ever see it, and he doesn’t ever want to forget it. He gets up after a bit, wandering into the only other room in the treehouse. He never got to spend much time in here, but there’s a small table and chairs, and a beat up looking couch facing the window. He wishes he could stay long enough to see a rainy day here, because he’s almost positive that this must be the cosiest place to be during a storm.

He sits down on the couch, hearing it creak under his weight, and stares up and out the window. He lets his mind wander until it’s light out, and then finally finds his way outside.

The clearing is still just as messy as it had been last night. There are broken pieces of things everywhere, food scraps and charred wood scattered around the fire pit like something exploded. There are dozens of footprints stamped into the dirt all around, and dirty plates and utensils everywhere.

The Lost Boys are sitting by the empty fire pit, looking just as lost as their title implies. Liam dutifully keeps his head down when Harry walks over, Niall looks up at him with sadness in his eyes, and Zayn with understanding in his.

“Are you really leaving?” Niall asks, lip wobbling a little. Harry sniffles and sits down beside him, unable to look at the sadness he put on his sweet face.

“Yeah,” he mutters, staring down at his feet. They’re dirty and gross; he could really use a shower. 

Nobody says anything for a few minutes, until finally Liam pipes up.

“He is so, so hurt, you know?” he says quietly, looking over at Harry. “I’ve never seen him cry before. Not until last night.”

Harry feels a bit like crying again too, hanging his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Well you did-”

“Liam,” Zayn interrupts gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Stop. It’s not his fault.”

Liam glares at Zayn for a second before relenting, looking down. “I suppose it’s not. I just hate that he’s taking it so hard and there’s nothing we can do.” He doesn’t mean for Harry to hear it, but he does anyway.

“Where is he?” Harry asks nervously. “I want to talk to him.”

“He’s sleeping,” Niall says sombrely.

“He was up late crying, so,” Liam shrugs.

“Best let him rest,” Zayn nods, smiling sympathetically at Harry.

“Right,” Harry whispers, biting his cheek to keep from crying and burying his head between his knees. It hurts a good deal, knowing he upset Louis that much. They haven’t known each other terribly long, but it feels like Louis is everything he’s ever needed, and he can only hope that Louis doesn’t think so much of him.

It takes a few minutes but eventually he feels a hand on his back, and he looks up to see that Liam, of all people, has repositioned himself to be next to Harry.

“He’s my best friend,” Liam tells him quietly. “He’s the strongest person I know. I trust him with my life, and I know him inside and out. He doesn’t hate you, he never could, and you know that. He thinks the world of you,” he says earnestly.

“I wish he didn’t,” Harry admits. “I’m just letting him down.”

“No,” Liam says, “not necessarily. He wants you to be happy, even if it’s not with him. If going home will make you happy, then he’s okay with it. It’ll just take some time for him to get over losing you so fast.”

“I don’t want him to lose me,” Harry whimpers. “I don’t want to have to choose between him and home. This isn’t fair.”

“Nothing’s fair,” Liam chuckles darkly, wrapping his arm around Harry and pulling him into his side. “That’s why we came here. But you can’t escape life, I suppose, even if you never grow up.”

Harry leans his head on Liam’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “I’m not sorry I came here. I hate this part, right now, but I’m not sorry about this experience. I’m glad I met you guys,” he says, looking over at Zayn and Niall and then up at Liam.

“Us too,” Liam assures, giving him a gentle smile and then removing his arm from where it’s still resting over his shoulders.

Lottie appears then, her usual tinkling absent. She looks sad and somewhat distressed, flying over to sit on Harry’s knee.

“Is Louis awake?” Liam asks her, keeping his voice quiet.

“Yes,” Lottie answers, looking down.

“Is he going to take Harry home?”

Lottie hesitates. “No.”

Harry’s heart jolts in his chest, feeling somewhat betrayed. “He’s not?” he asks, sitting up a little straighter. “Why? He can’t make me stay here,” he says, getting a little panicky.

“That’s not it,” Lottie assures, but she still sounds sad. “It’s- he doesn’t want to be the one to take you home. He doesn’t want to, like,” she pauses, searching for the right word.

“I get it,” Harry breathes. See him, Louis doesn’t want to see him. Louis wants to save himself the pain of having to watch Harry leave. “I get it.”

“It’s not what you think,” Lottie tries.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Harry mumbles, unable to look directly at her.

“He asked me to take you instead,” Lottie says, pushing herself up to stand on Harry’s knee. “So, whenever you’re ready.”

“He’s not even going to say goodbye?” Harry asks, voice cracking slightly. “It’s one thing he won’t take me, but he’s not even going to say goodbye to me?”

Lottie sniffles, looking down again. The other boys all look at each other and then look down as well, and Harry whimpers despite himself.

“Fine,” he breathes, but it’s not fine, it’s not fine at all. He’s never going to see Louis again, not ever for the rest of his life, and Louis won’t even show his face. “Let’s go then.”

Lottie sighs and flutters her wings, lifting herself off of Harry’s knee while Harry climbs to his feet. He feels sick suddenly, trying not to turn around, not to look at the hut he knows Louis is hiding in. He knows Louis can hear every word he says, and still he won’t come out, and Harry didn’t think he was capable of feeling so bad.

Lottie sniffles again and glows a little brighter, wiping at her face while she prepares to give Harry all the pixie dust he’ll need to get home. Before she can, though, the door of the hut behind Harry bursts open, and all four of them jump.

“Don’t go,” Louis pleads, marching right over to Harry and grabbing him by the wrist. “Don’t leave.”

“Louis I-”

“No,” Louis grits out. “I know. You have to. Just, not yet. Please come with me, just for a minute,” he says, eyes desperate. His face is even puffier than Harry’s eyes red and still watery. He looks exhausted, as well, and Harry nods slowly.

Louis leads him away from the clearing, into the forest behind the huts. He brings him right behind a tree and then turns to face him, hesitating at the same time Harry does.

Harry breaks the tension and lurches forward, holding Louis’s cheeks and kissing the breath out of his lungs. Louis holds onto his arms and kisses back for all he’s worth, and he’s worth so, so much in Harry’s book. They both pull away a little dazed.

“I have something for you,” Louis mutters, reaching into his shirt through the neck. He pulls off the chain from around his neck, hand closed around the charm on the end.

“Louis-”

“Just let me explain it,” Louis breathes, staring at Harry’s eyes. “This is a locket. It is made from the finest metals on this island, and is very, very delicate. You have to treat it with the utmost care,” he says, reaching up to drape it over Harry’s neck. “I’ve had it for so, so long, I’m not even really sure if I remember how I came into possession of it, but I know this,” he whispers, clutching his hand around the locket itself, holding on tightly. “If ever you need me, for anything at all, even just to say hello,” Louis chokes back tears for a moment before he continues, “even just to say hello should you miss me, you can use this. It only opens when you really, really need it to, and inside will be a little scroll of paper. Take it out, write me a note, and lock it back inside. It may take some time, but eventually I will see it, and I will come to you, whether it be in a dream, in a memory, or in a feeling.”

The locket is gold, not quite perfectly round and hangs on a rather long chain. It looks a bit beat up, but it’s beautiful, the seam of it almost invisible.

“Will I see you again?” Harry asks, vision blurry with unshed tears. He blinks and a single tear rolls, but it only lives a moment before Louis wipes it away.

“I don’t know,” Louis says honestly. “But if you need me, I’ll be there.”

“And what if you need me?” Harry asks, closing his hand around Louis’s around the locket.

Louis smiles sadly, moving their hands to rest against his own chest. “I have you here. Always in my heart.”

Harry takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, memorizing the image of his hand locked with Louis’s, pressed over Louis’s beating heart. “Yes, of course, always.”

Louis gives him a watery grin and Harry returns it, moving in for one last kiss. Louis keeps it short, ducking his head before they can get too into it. “It’s time for you to go,” Louis whispers.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, but he makes no move to walk away, forehead still pressed against Louis’s.

It takes them another minute to finally break away, and Harry gathers every ounce of his strength and walks away from Louis. When he gets back to the clearing and looks back, Louis isn’t behind him.

“Ready?” Lottie asks, still hovering just where he left her. The other boys look sad but they’re smiling, wishing him farewell. Nobody says anything about the locket.

“Ready.”

Lottie glows bright again and flies over to him, buzzing around and around and dropping enough pixie dust on him that it won’t wear out until they get back to London. Harry shares one last smile with the Lost Boys and then looks up at the sky, counting himself down.

He jumps before the tears can start back up, determinedly not looking down as he waits for Lottie to catch up. She catches him just about at the treetops and they fly on wordlessly, Lottie leading the way. It’s a little disorienting, flying without having Louis’s hand to hold, but he manages, and tries not to think too much.

As they soar over the trees Harry just happens to look down, the tallest tree on the island right in his eyeline, the one he and Louis sat on for hours that first day. It feels like ages ago now, and it hurts. Just as they’re about to pass it Harry spots Louis sitting atop it, watching with his chin in his hand. He waves, just a tiny movement of his hand, and Harry reaches to grab his locket in one hand and keeps on flying, because if he stops now, he won’t start again.

They fly for the sun, which eventually fades into the stars. Lottie leads him all the way, both of them silent, no words to make this anything except harder.

As they go on, Harry feels as though the locket is getting heavier and heavier. He tries holding onto it again, like that will stop it from dragging him to the ground, but he finds he is unable to even get his fingers to wrap all the way around it.

Lottie keeps drooping and swerving ahead of him, her movements slow and frail. Harry realizes with a jolt of his heart that his locket isn’t getting heavier, but he is getting weaker, dipping lower and lower in the air with every passing second. 

It feels like detachment, like the farther they get from Louis, the less they can do. It’s an alarming thought, that Louis has that much power over them, but there doesn’t seem to much they can do about it.

“Lottie,” Harry calls, when she droops dangerously low. “Lottie!”

She seems like she’s going to fall right out of the sky at any moment, and Harry can’t let that happen. Louis needs her, they both know that, and if she doesn’t return to him, who knows what Louis will do.

He reaches out to catch her when her wings finally give out, just barely catching her in his palm. She looks exhausted, clinging to his index finger weakly, and Harry strains all he can to keep on flying, England only just barely in sight.

He feels like he’s falling asleep, but like a permanent kind of sleep, the one you don’t wake up from. He’s panicking, trying to move, but he can’t, he can’t, and then he’s falling, and Lottie is screaming, and all Harry can do is open his eyes.

-

He gasps loudly, entire body jerking so hard he nearly falls out of his bed. He scrambles to sit up, breath coming hard, heart racing in his chest. He’s so confused, looking around at the dark outlines of his room, trying to remember how he didn’t die. The window is still open, the moon providing just barely enough light to see by, and when Harry looks at the clock, it’s only 2:45am. 

The last time he looked at the clock, it was 12:37. His heart sinks down to his toes as realization washes over him, a sick feeling rising in his stomach.

It was only a dream. All of it was only a _dream._

He wants to cry, sitting in his bed at 2:45, now 2:46 in the morning. Louis isn’t real, and neither is Lottie, or Liam or Zayn or Niall or Simon or anyone. Except maybe they are, because Harry read somewhere once that the people in your dreams are people you’ve seen in real life before, even if you’ve never spoken to them.

He flops back on his bed and whimpers, trying to decide whether or not he should give in to the urge to cry. He reaches to his chest, in a last ditch attempt, to feel for the locket, but it isn’t there. It’s not real.

He lets himself sniffle and a tear slips out the corner of his eye, wetting the side of his temple. If he had that locket now, he’d already be writing Louis a note, asking him to come find him and bring him back, because the real world is cruel and he’s not up for it.

As it is, though, none of that actually happened. It’s hard to distinguish between real life and Neverland in these young, foggy hours of the morning. He rolls over and presses his face into his pillow, wondering how he could have imagined the feelings he felt for Louis.

There’s a garbage truck beeping somewhere outside, the sound of it filtering right in his open window. He figures he doesn’t need to leave the window open anymore, because Peter Pan isn’t real, after all, and neither is Louis, and everyone was right all along.

He throws his legs over the side of the bed and gets up, stomping over to the window. He reaches out to pull one side closed, and then the other, when he notices something hanging off the latch.

His heart nearly putters out in his chest, his jaw falling open. On a long golden chain hangs a round, golden locket, identical to the one in his dream.

He sits down on the windowsill and reaches out for the locket, closing it gently in his hand and pulling it free from the latch. He holds it against his chest and looks up at the stars, and for the first time in a long time, he swears he sees them wink at him.

-

He keeps the locket a secret for a few days. He hides it in his bedside drawer so his mother won’t see and ask where it came from, and where his sister won’t check if she comes snooping in his room any time soon.

He decides he doesn’t need the locket quite yet, because he needs to get over Louis, and writing him a message just to see if it’ll work seems detrimental. He’s quite miserable without him, though, so on day three home from Neverland, he finally digs out the locket and hangs it around his neck.

Armed with a pencil in his pocket and the locket around his neck, Harry sets off for the park down the street. He doesn’t want to get caught writing the note if he writes it in his bedroom, and the park usually gives him enough inspiration that he’ll be able to write something worth Louis’s while. It’s not a long walk, and it’s a warm summer day, and he’s in good spirits by the time he settles down on his favorite bench.

There are people milling about, doing this and that. There’s a woman jogging past, a fat squirrel shimmying up a tree, a bunch of kids playing on the swingset across the way. He takes the locket in his palm and stares down at it, fingering at the seam until it gently pops open.

He smiles and closes his eyes for a moment, pleased beyond belief that it worked exactly as Louis had said it would, when he really needed it to. He pulls out the blank little scroll from inside the locket and smooths it over the seat of the bench, leaning down to write the simplest thing he can think of.

_I miss you._

He stares down at it for a moment, and then another, praying to whoever that this will actually work. He folds it back up and sticks it inside the locket, pressing the latch closed and letting it fall against his chest.

He waits for a moment, looking around like Louis might just apparate out of thin air. He doesn’t really think it works like that, though, and stands up with a sigh.

Carelessly, staring down at the locket again, he starts walking. He steps out onto the pavement path that leads around the perimeter of the park, lost in his thoughts. He doesn’t hear the person yelling until they’re right behind him, and then everything hits him all at once, literally.

“Watch out!” the person is yelling, but before Harry can even turn around, they slam right into him. They both go tumbling to the ground, Harry landing hard on the pavement with a petite stranger landing half on top of him. The stranger’s skateboard flips and lands on the grass, wheels spinning like he’d been moving quite fast.

Harry’s locket hits the ground quite hard and busts open, the note tumbling out. The wind catches it before Harry can even reach for it and then it’s gone, leaving Harry wide eyed and panicked. “No,” he whimpers, reaching futilely after it, dropping his forehead onto his arm and closing his eyes so he doesn’t scream in frustration.

Not only is his note to Louis lost, but the locket is definitely broken. He didn’t get to contact Louis even once, and now he never will.

“I’m so sorry, mate,” the stranger is saying, jumping to his feet and reaching back down to help Harry up. “I completely didn’t see you until the last second, and then it was too late to stop,” he says.

Harry rolls onto his back and reaches for the stranger’s hand, locking eyes with him the moment their fingers touch. His entire heart leaps right out of his chest, leaving him gaping in it’s wake. The boy gives him a weird look and heaves him to his feet, steadying Harry when he almost stumbles.

“Woah,” he chuckles, holding Harry’s shoulders. “Did you hit your head?” he asks, half serious, still smiling a little confusedly.

“No, I-” Harry stutters, unable to take his eyes off the boy.

“You…?” The boy asks, frowning at Harry. “Hey, listen, why don’t we sit for a mo’, yeah?”

Harry just nods slowly, letting the boy lead him back to the bench he was just sitting on. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he boy rushes, “it was totally my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. My name’s Louis, by the way,” he says, smiling over at Harry.

Harry’s mouth goes dry, heart thumping wildly in his chest. “Harry,” he croaks, extending a hand just to see what Louis will do.

Louis just looks at it, laughing quietly. “A bit formal, I think,” he jokes, but he shakes Harry’s hand anyway.

Harry can’t help but laugh, overwhelmed, trying not to stare but finding himself looking more than he should.

“Have we met before?” Louis asks after a moment, shifting on the bench to look at Harry head on.

“Yes!” Harry lights up, turning to face Louis as well. “In my dream!”

Louis blinks in surprise, chuckling suddenly and looking around like someone might be watching. “In your dream, good one. What, did your dad teach you that pick up line?” he jokes, but he’s smiling, maybe even blushing a little.

“Oh, I meant-” he cuts himself off, deciding that maybe now isn’t the best time to tell Louis that he literally met him in a dream. “Yeah, sorry. Pretty lame,” he chuckles, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’d have to agree with you,” Louis giggles. It’s so cute, exactly how Harry remembers. “Oh,” Louis says suddenly, the smile dropping from his face. “Shit, I broke your necklace.”

Harry looks down, picking up the broken locket where it’s hanging against his chest. “Oh, that’s okay. Something tells me I’m not going to be needing it much longer, anyway.”

Louis smiles at him, and Harry might imagine it, but there seems to be a knowing glint in his eye. “Well, Harry, how about I take you somewhere to make up for it? There’s this little cafe down the road, they make the absolute best frozen hot chocolate,” he offers, already standing up from the bench. He reaches for Harry’s hand, even though they barely know each other, and a pang of recognition strikes in Harry’s chest.

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, grinning as he takes Louis’s hand and stands up.

Louis beams at him and reaches down, picking up the skateboard he bowled Harry over with and tucking it under his free arm. They start walking then, still hand in hand, and Harry feels like he has to say something before he explodes.

“You skate?” He asks, gesturing to Louis’s board.

“Yeah, I do,” Louis smiles, looking down at the board under his arm. “I’ve liked it ever since I was really little. Not sure why, makes me feel like I’m flying, kind of,” he muses.

Harry huffs a laugh, shaking his head at the ridiculousness that has become his life suddenly. Louis smiles confusedly at him but Harry just grins, holding his hand a little tighter as they walk.

-

“I am really sorry about your necklace,” Louis says, taking the seat closest to the window. Harry’s walked by this cafe thousands of times but he’s never actually come inside, and he can’t help but wonder if maybe he’d have met Louis sooner if he did.

“Really, don’t worry about it,” Harry assures, looking down at the busted locket. 

“Is it a locket?” Louis asks curiously, looking closer at it. Harry lifts the chain from around his neck and hands it to him, watching him inspect it. “Looks just like one I had when I was younger,” Louis says fondly, smiling to himself as he turns it over in his hands.

“Sounds like you’ve got a story?” Harry asks hopefully, leaning his elbows on the table and sipping gingerly at the frozen drink Louis bought for him.

“I guess,” Louis hums, trying to close the two broken sides of the locket, to no avail. “When I was a kid, probably about four or five, me mum got pregnant with what would have been my first sister. She had a miscarriage, though, few weeks after she told me I was going to be a big brother. I kept asking where the baby went, and so my mum gave me a locket just like this. She told me my baby sister got chosen to be a fairy instead of a human, and so she was whisked away to start her training and she wouldn’t be joining our family. She told me that if I ever needed her that she would be there to help me, all I had to do was write her a note and close it in my locket, and Lottie would visit me in a dream, or in my thoughts,” he says quietly, still smiling down at the locket.

Harry has to force himself to breathe, heart beating excitedly in his chest. “Lottie?” he asks gently, watching Louis’s fingers playing with the locket. He doesn’t want to pry, but he’s desperate to know how everything from his dream seems to have a parallel in the real world.

“Yeah, Lottie. Her name was going to be Charlotte, which I couldn’t very well pronounce, so I called her Lottie. I always imagined her with this light blue hair, and these big blue eyes, like mine. It was almost like she was there, even though I know she wasn’t. Even still, it’s like I can feel her with me sometimes, you know?” Louis says, looking up at Harry and shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s all in my head.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry assures, reaching over, without a thought, to grab Louis’s hand. “It’s funny, the things that stick with us. Believe it or not, I still believe in Neverland,” he admits, smiling when Louis grins at him.

“No way, Neverland is the coolest,” he chuckles. He makes no move to pull his hand away from Harry’s, watching as Harry replaces the locket entirely with his own fingers. “What I would’ve done to never have grown up,” he sighs wistfully, distractedly running his thumb over the back of Harry’s knuckles.

“Yeah, I used to think so too,” Harry says, watching Louis’s face carefully. “But I’ve discovered recently that maybe growing up isn’t such a bad thing after all. I mean, it has to happen at some time, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Louis sighs. “I would have loved a little more time as a kid, though. After the miscarriage my biological dad, Simon, left my mum high and dry. I had to grow up pretty fast after that, help out more around the house, because when my mum found out she was pregnant with the twins, Simon was already long gone.” 

Harry’s head swims a little. Simon was Louis’s father. No wonder Louis was so threatened by him in his dream. 

“Sorry, am I oversharing? I think I might be oversharing,” Louis laughs, a blush tinting his cheeks. “I feel like I know you, weirdly. It’s like this isn’t the first time we’ve met,” he says, cocking his head at Harry like he’s trying to figure out where he might know him from.

“Maybe it isn’t,” Harry shrugs, grinning at Louis. “Maybe we’ve met a thousand times in different lives,” he suggests.

“Yeah, like in your dream, right,” Louis laughs, squeezing Harry’s hand a little, probably unconsciously. “Really, though. It’s so strange how sometimes you just feel like you know a perfect stranger,” he muses.

“Yeah, strange,” Harry hums in agreement, resting his chin in the palm of his free hand. “Tell me more about yourself, then, perfect stranger.”

Louis chuckles, blushing a little more. “I’ve told you so much already,” he says, acting shy all of a sudden. “Tell me about you.”

Harry sighs, rolling his eyes slightly like this is the greatest burden Louis could have bestowed upon him. “I’m Harry,” he starts, looking up at the ceiling. “I have two parents, and a sister named Gemma. I’m almost fifteen years old, I spend a _lot_ of time inside my own head, and I’ve only ever been to the beach in this fantastic dream I had once,” he says, looking back at Louis once he’s finished. “Your go.”

Louis laughs quietly, looking down at the table. “Well, I used to live in Doncaster, before the twins were born. I actually used to pretend that I was Peter Pan, and my three best friends, Liam, Niall and Zayn, were my lost boys. We lost touch after I moved, though, and I haven’t talked to them since, really. Still wish we all could have ended up in Neverland at some point,” he hums.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry grins. “I was never one to dream about being Peter Pan, though. I was more into dreaming about kissing Peter Pan,” he admits, shrugging when Louis’s lips part slightly in surprise.

“Is that right?” Louis laughs, fingers twitching against Harry’s. “Ever kissed a boy, then?”

“Not in real life,” Harry murmurs, blushing lightly and smiling down at the table. 

“Just the Peter Pan in your dreams?” Louis teases, sporting his own little blush when Harry looks up.

“Yeah, something like that,” Harry hums, eyes flicking to Louis’s lips for a split second.

“Hm,” Louis hums noncommittally, but Harry catches him looking at his lips in return. “Was your Peter Pan anything like me?”

“He was everything like you,” Harry says immediately. _He_ was _you_ , he thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Think I could kiss better than him?” Louis asks, a challenge in his eyes when they meet Harry’s.

“You could try,” Harry challenges right back, smirking up at Louis.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Good.” Louis leans right across the table and catches Harry’s lips, warm and familiar but also new and exciting. It’s not a first kiss, or maybe it is, but it’s incredible all the same. Louis pulls away much too fast, his eyes bright and his cheeks rosy.

“What do you think?” Louis asks, but Harry’s still a little dazed.

“About what?” he hums, smiling dopily.

“About the kiss, you dufus. Am I better than your Peter Pan?”

Harry takes a moment to laugh despite himself, hanging his head briefly. “Yeah, way better. You’re real, for one thing,” he giggles, looking up at Louis through his eyelashes.

“Everything you dreamt it would be?” Louis grins. Harry’s heart lurches.

“Yeah, I’d say,” he nods, grinning right back.

Louis just beams at him, all his pointy little teeth on display, and squeezes his hand hard. “So what do you say, will you be the Wendy to my Peter?” He asks happily, before making a face. “Forget I ever said that. Ew.”

Harry laughs brightly and shakes his head, squeezing Louis’s hand back. “Said what?” he teases.

“I knew I liked you,” Louis grins, shaking his head. 

They take ages to finish their drinks, and by the time they leave the cafe, Harry’s mother will probably be having a fit when he gets home, he’s been gone so long. Louis kisses his cheek on the pavement in front of Harry’s home and promises to meet up with him tomorrow, and then he’s skating away, arms spread like he’s flying, and Harry watches him until he blinks out of view.

Maybe someday he’ll tell Louis about his dream, but for now, he’s okay with the way things turned out. This Louis might not actually be able to fly and outsmart pirates and give Harry the world, but he blushes like artwork and his voice sounds like every tinkling voice of every fairy in Neverland. He has a broken locket and a happy heart when he lets himself back inside.

That night, for the first time, Harry doesn’t sit at his window to dream about Peter Pan. Tonight, for the first time, Harry thinks his dream has finally come true.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry... comments and kudos are always appreciated!!
> 
> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/142318587787/fukcinglouis-no-place-to-call-home-by-suspendrs), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
> 
> [faq](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/faq)


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